ot 


Henry   IV. 


BY  JOHN  S.  C.  ABBOTT 


W>TH   ENGRAVINGS 


NEW  YORK  AND  LONDON 

HARPER    &    BROTHERS    PUBLISHERS 

1904 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  In  the  year  one  thousand  eight 
hundred  and  fifty-six,  by 

HARPER   &    BROTHERS, 


Copyright,  1881,  by  SUSAN  ABBOT  MHAIX 


jgf 


PREFACE. 

HISTORY  is  our  Heaven-appointed  instructor. 
It  is  the  guide  for  the  future.  The  calamities 
of  yesterday  are  the  protectors  of  to-day. 

The  sea  of  time  we  navigate  is  full  of  perils. 
But  it  is  not  an  unknown  sea.  It  has  "been 
traversed  for  ages,  and  there  is  not  a  sunken 
rock  or  a  treacherous  sand-bar  which  is  not 
marked  by  the  wreck  of  those  who  have  pre- 
ceded us. 

There  is  no  portion  of  history  fraught  with 
more  valuable  instruction  than  the  period  of 
those  terrible  religiou"  wars  which  desolated  the 
sixteenth  century.  There  is  no  romance  so 
wild  as  the  veritable  history  of  those  times. 
The  majestic  outgoings  of  the  Almighty,  as  de- 
veloped in  the  onward  progress  of  our  race,  in- 
finitely transcend,  in  all  the  elements  of  pro- 
foundness, mystery,  and  grandeur,  all  that  man's 
fancy  can  create. 


viii  PREFACE. 

The  cartoons  of  Raphael  are  beautiful,  but 
what  are  they  when  compared  with  the  heav- 
ing ocean,  the  clouds  of  sunset,  and  the  pinna- 
cles of  the  Alps  ?  The  dome  of  St.  Peter's  is 
man's  noblest  architecture,  but  what  is  it  when 
compared  with  the  magnificent  rotunda  of  the 
skies  ? 

JOHN  S.  C-  ABBOTT. 

Brunswick,  Maine,  1856. 


CONTENTS. 


Chapter  Pag* 

I.    CHILDHOOD    AND   YOUTH 13 

II.    CIVIL   WAR 45 

III.  THE  MARRIAGE 68 

IV.  PREPARATIONS  FOR  MASSACRE 93 

V.  MASSACRE  OF  ST.  BARTHOLOMEW 109 

VI.  THE  HOUSES  OF  VALOIS,  OF  GUISE,  AND  OF 

BOURBON - 137 

VII.    REIGN   OF   HENRY  III - 167 

VIII.    THE    LEAGUE 196 

IX.    THE     ASSASSINATION     OF     THE     DUKE     OF     GUISE 

AND    OF    HENRY   III 220 

X.    WAR   AND    WOE 256 

XI.    THE    CONVERSION    OF    THE    KING 281 

XII.    THE    REIGN    OF   HENRY  IV.  AND    HIS    DEATH  . .  .  30C 


ENGRAVINGS. 


THE    BIRTH    OF    HENRY   OF   NAVARRE 19 

THE    FLIGHT    OF    THE    QUEEN    OF  NAVARRE 52 

THE    MARRIAGE 87 

THE    MASSACRE    OF   ST.  BARTHOLOMEW  __ 115 

THE    ASSASSINATION    OF    FRANCIS,  DUKE    OF   GUISE 161 

THE    ASSASSINATION    OF    HENRY,  DUKE    OF   GUISE 228 

THE   ASSASSINATION    OF  HENRY  III 238 

THE    ACT    OF   ABJURING    PROTESTANTISM 292 

THE    RECONCILIATION    WITH    MAYENNE  .  .                          .  309 


KING  HENRY  IV, 

CHAPTER  I. 
CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH. 

Navarre. 

ABOUT  four  hundred  years  ago  there  was 
a  small  kingdom,  spreading  over  the  cliffs 
and  ravines  of  the  eastern  extremity  of  the  Pyr- 
enees, called  Navarre.  Its  population,  of  about 
five  hundred  thousand,  consisted  of  a  very  sim- 
ple, frugal,  and  industrious  people.  Those  who 
lived  upon  the  shore  washed  by  the  stormy 
waves  of  the  Bay  of  Biscay  gratified  their  love 
of  excitement  and  of  adventure  by  braving  the 
perils  of  the  sea.  Those  who  lived  in  the  sol- 
itude of  the  interior,  on  the  sunny  slopes  of  the 
mountains,  or  by  the  streams  which  meandered 
through  the  verdant  valleys,  fed  they1  flocks, 
and  harvested  their  grain,  and  pressed  rich  wine 
from  the  grapes  of  their  vineyards,  in  the  en- 
joyment of  the  most  pleasant  duties  of  rural 
life.  Proud  of  their  independence,  they  were 


14  KING  HENRY  IV.          [1475. 

Catharine  de  Foix.  Ferdinand  and  Isabella. 

ever  ready  to  grasp  arms  to  repel  foreign  ag- 
gression. The  throne  of  this  kingdom  was,  at 
the  time  of  which  we  speak,  occupied  by  Cath- 
arine de  Foix.  She  was  a  widow,  and  all  her 
hopes  and  affections  were  centred  in  her  son 
Henryj  an  ardent  and  impetuous  boy  six  or 
seven  years  of  age,  who  was  to  receive  the 
crown  when  it  should  fall  from  her  brow,  and 
transmit  to  posterity  their  ancestral  honors. 

Ferdinand  of  Aragon  had  just  married  Isa- 
bella of  Castile,  and  had  thus  united  those  two 
populous  and  wealthy  kingdoms ;  and  now,  in 
the  arrogance  of  power,  seized  with  the  pride  of 
annexation,  he  began  to  look  with  a  wistful  eye 
upon  the  picturesque  kingdom  of  Navarre.  Its 
comparative  feebleness,  under  the  reign  of  a  be- 
reaved woman  weary  of  the  world,  invited  to 
the  enterprise.  Should  he  grasp  at  the  whole 
territory  of  the  little  realm,  France  might  inter- 
pose her  powerful  remonstrance.  Should  he 
take  but  the  half  which  was  spread  out  upon 
the  southern  declivity  of  the  Pyrenees,  it  would 
be  virtually  saying  to  the  French  monarch, 
44  The  rest  I  courteously  leave  for  you."  The 
armies  of  Spain  were  soon  sweeping  resistlessly 
through  these  sunny  valleys,  and  one  half  of 
her  empire  was  ruthlessly  torn  from  the  Queen 


1475.]   CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH.          15 

Dismemberment  of  Navarre.  Plans  for  revenge. 

of  Navarre,  and  transferred  to  the  dominion  of 
imperious  Castile  and  Aragon. 

Catharine  retired  with  her  child  to  the  colder 
and  more  uncongenial  regions  of  the  northern 
declivity  of  the  mountains.  Her  bosom  glow- 
ed with  mortification  and  rage  in  view  of  her 
hopeless  defeat.  As  she  sat  down  gloomily  in 
the  small  portion  which  remained  to  her  of  her 
dismembered  empire,  she  endeavored  to  foster 
in  the  heart  of  her  son  the  spirit  of  revenge, 
and  to  inspire  him  with  the  resolution  to  regain 
those  lost  leagues  of  territory  which  had  been 
wrested  from  the  inheritance  of  his  fathers. 
Henry  imbibed  his  mother's  spirit,  and  chafed 
and  fretted  under  wrongs  for  which  he  could  ob- 
tain no  redress.  Ferdinand  arid  Isabella  could 
not  be  annoyed  even  by  any  force  which  feeble 
Navarre  could  raise.  Queen  Catharine,  howev- 
er, brooded  deeply  over  her  wrongs,  and  laid 
plans  for  retributions  of  revenge,  the  execution 
of  which  she  knew  must  be  deferred  till  long 
after  her  body  should  have  mouldered  to  dust 
in  the  grave.  She  courted  the  most  intimate 
alliance  with  Francis  L,  King  of  France.  She 
contemplated  the  merging  of  her  own  little  king- 
dom into  that  powerful  .monarchy,  that  the  in- 
fant Navarre,  having  grown  into  the  giant 


16  KING  HENEY  IV.          [1553. 

Death  of  Catharine.  Marriage  of  Henry  and  Margaret 

France,  might  crush  the  Spanish  tyrants  into 
humiliation.  Nerved  by  this  determined  spirit 
of  revenge,  and  inspired  by  a  mother's  ambi- 
tion, she  intrigued  to  wed  her  son  to  the  heir- 
ess of  the  French  throne,  that  even  in  the  world 
of  spirits  she  might  be  cheered  by  seeing  Hen- 
ry heading  the  armies  of  France,  the  terrible 
avenger  of  her  wrongs.  These  hopes  invigor- 
ated her  until  the  fitful  dream  of  her  joyless 
life  was  terminated,  and  her  restless  spirit  sank 
into  the  repose  of  the  grave.  She  lived,  how- 
ever, to  see  her  plans  apparently  in  progress  to- 
ward their  most  successful  fulfillment. 

Henry,  her  son,  was  married  to  Margaret,  the 
favorite  sister  of  the  King  of  France.  Their 
nuptials  were  blessed  with  but  one  child,  Jeanne 
d'Albret.  This  child,  in  whose  destiny  such 
ambitious  hopes  were  centred,  bloomed  into  most 
marvelous  beauty,  and  became  also  as  conspic- 
uous for  her  mental  endowments  as  for  her  per- 
sonal charms.  She  had  hardly  emerged  from 
the  period  of  childhood  when  she  was  married 
to  Antony  of  Bourbon,  a  near  relative  of  the 
royal  family  of  France.  Immediately  after  her 
marriage  she  left  Navarre  with  her  husband,  to 
take  up  her  residence  in  the  French  metropolis. 

One  hope  still  lived,  with  undying  vigor,  in 


1553.]  CHILDHOOD   AND  YOUTH.          17 

lingering  hope^  of  Henry.  Jeanne  returns  to  Navarre. 

the  bosom  of  Henry.  It  was  the  hope,  the  in- 
tense passion,  with  which  his  departed  mother 
had  inspired  him,  that  a  grandson  would  arise 
from  this  union,  who  would,  with  the  spirit  of 
Hannibal,  avenge  the  family  wrongs  upon  Spain. 
Twice  Henry  took  a  grandson  into  his  arms 
with  the  feeling  that  the  great  desire  of  his  life 
was  about  to  be  realized ;  and  twice,  with  almost 
a  broken  heart,  he  saw  these  hopes  blighted  as 
he  committed  the  little  ones  to  the  grave. 

Summers  and  winters  had  now  lingered  wea- 
rily away,  and  Henry  had  become  an  old  man. 
Disappointment  and  care  had  worn  down  his 
frame.  World-weary  and  joyless,  he  still  clung 
to  hope.  The  tidings  that  Jeanne  was  again  to 
become  a  mother  rekindled  the  lustre  of  his  fad- 
ing eye.  The  aged  king  sent  importunately  for 
his  daughter  to  return  without  delay  to  the  pa- 
ternal castle,  that  the  child  might  be  born  in  the 
kingdom  of  Navarre,  whose  wrongs  it  was  to  be 
his  peculiar  destiny  to  avenge.  It  was  mid- 
winter. The  journey  was  long  and  the  roads 
rough.  But  the  dutiful  and  energetic  Jeanne 
promptly  obeyed  the  wishes  of  her  father,  and 
hastened  to  his  court. 

Henry  could  hardly  restrain  his  impatience  as 
he  waited,  week  after  week,  for  the  advent  of  the 
13—2 


18  KING  HENHY   IV.          [1553. 

Birth  of  Henry  IV.  Tha  royal  nur.na 

long-looked-for  avenger.  With  the  characteris- 
tic superstition  of  the  times,  he  constrained  his 
daughter  to  promise  that,  at  the  period  of  birth, 
during  the  most  painful  moments  of  her  trial, 
she  would  sing  a  mirthful  and  triumphant  song, 
that  her  child  might  possess  a  sanguine,  joyous, 
and  energetic  spirit. 

Henry  entertained  not  a  doubt  that  the  child 
would  prove  a  boy,  commissioned  by  Providence 
as  the  avenger  of  Navarre.  The  old  king  re- 
ceived the  child,  at  the  moment  of  its  birth,  into 
his  own  arms,  totally  regardless  of  a  mother's 
rights,  and  exultingly  enveloping  it  in  soft  folds, 
bore  it  off,  as  his  own  property,  to  his  private 
apartment.  He  rubbed  the  lips  of  the  plump 
little  boy  with  garlic,  and  then  taking  a  golden 
goblet  of  generous  wine,  the  rough  and  royal 
nurse  forced  the  beverage  he  loved  so  well  down 
the  untainted  throat  of  his  new-born  heir. 

"A  little  good  old  wine,"  said  the  doting 
grandfather,  *'  will  make  the  boy  vigorous,  and 
brave." 

We  may  remark,  in  passing,  that  it  was  wine, 
rich  and  pure :  not  that  mixture  of  all  abomina- 
tions, whose  only  vintage  is  in  cellars,  sunless, 
damp>  and  fetid,  where  guilty  men  fabricate  poi- 
son for  a  nation. 


1553.]  CHILDHOOD   AND  YOUTH.         21 

Name  chosen  for  the  young  prince. 

This  little  stranger  received  the  ancestral 
name  of  Henry.  By  his  subsequent  exploits 
he  filled  the  world  with  his  renown.  He  was 
the  first  of  the  Bourbon  line  who  ascended  the 
throne  of  France,  and  he  swayed  the  sceptre  of 
energetic  rule  over  that  wide-spread  realm  with 
a  degree  of  power  and  grandeur  which  none  of 
his  descendants  have  ever  rivaled.  The  name 
of  Henry  IV.  is  one  of  the  most  illustrious  in 
the  annals  of  France.  The  story  of  his  strug- 
gles for  the  attainment  of  the  throne  of  Charle- 
magne is  full  of  interest.  His  birth,  to  which 
we  have  just  alluded,  occurred  at  Parr,  in  the 
kingdom  of  Navarre,  in  the  year  1553. 

His  grandfather  immediately  assumed  the  di- 
rection of  every  thing  relating  to  the  child,  ap- 
parently without  the  slightest  consciousness 
that  either  the  father  or  the  mother  of  Henry  had 
any  prior  claims.  The  king  possessed,  among 
the  wild  and  romantic  fastnesses  of  the  mount- 
ains, a  strong  old  castle,  as  rugged  and  frown- 
ing as  the  eternal  granite  upon  which  its  foun- 
dations were  laid.  Gloomy  evergreens  clung  to 
the  hill-sides.  A  mountain  stream,  often  swollen 
to  an  impetuous  torrent  by  the  autumnal  rains 
and  the  spring  thaws,  swept  through  the  little 
verdant  lawn,  which  smiled  amid  the  stern  sub- 


22  KING   HENRY   TV.          [1560. 


The  castle  of  Couranse. 


limities  surrounding  this  venerable  and  moss- 
covered  fortress.  Around  the  solitary  towers 
the  eagles  wheeled  and  screamed  in  harmony 
with  the  gales  and  storms  which  often  swept 
through  1  hese  wild  regions.  The  expanse  around 
was  sparsely  settled  by  a  few  hardy  peasants, 
who,  by  feeding  their  herds,  and  cultivating  lit- 
tle patches  of  soil  among  the  crags,  obtained  a 
humble  living,  and  by  exercise  and  the  pure 
mountain  air  acquired  a  vigor  and  an  atliletic- 
hardihood  of  frame  which  had  given  them  much 
celebrity. 

To  the  storm-battered  castle  of  Courasse,  thus 
lowering  in  congenial  gloom  among  these  rocksr 
the  old  king  sent  the  infant  Henry  to  be  nur- 
tured as  a  peasant-boy,  that,  by  frugal  fare  and 
exposure  to  hardship,  he  might  acquire  a  peas- 
ant's robust  frame.  He  resolved  that  no  French 
delicacies  should  enfeeble  the  constitution  of 
this  noble  child.  Bareheaded  and  barefooted, 
the  young  prince,  as  yet  hardly  emerging  from 
infancy,  rolled  upon  the  grass,  played  with  the 
poultry,  and  the  dogs,  and  the  sturdy  young 
mountaineers,  and  plunged  into  the  brook  or 
paddled  in  the  pools  of  water  with  which  the 
mountain  showers  often  filled  the  court-yard. 
His  hair  was  bleached  and  his  cheeks  bronzed 


1562.]  CHILDHOOD   AND   YOUTH.          23 

Education  of  Henry.  Death  of  the  King  of  Navarre. 

by  the  sun  and  the  wind.  Few  would  have  im- 
agined that  the  unattractive  child,  with  his  un- 
shorn locks  and  in  his  studiously  neglected  garb, 
was  the  descendant  of  a  long  line  of  kings,  and 
was  destined  to  eclipse  them  all  by  the  grand- 
eur of  his  name. 

As  years  glided  along  he  advanced  to  ener- 
getic boyhood,  the  constant  companion,  and,  in 
all  his  sports  and  modes  of  life,  the  equal  of 
the  peasant -boys  by  whom  he  was  surround- 
ed. He  hardly  wore  a  better  dress  than  they  ; 
he  was  nourished  with  the  same  coarse  fare. 
With  them  he  climbed  the  mountains,  and  leap- 
ed the  streams,  and  swung  upon  the  trees.  He 
struggled  with  his  youthful  competitors  in  all 
their  athletic  games,  running,  wrestling,  pitch- 
ing the  quoit,  and  tossing  the  bar.  This  active 
out-door  exercise  gave  a  relish  to  the  coarse  food 
of  (lie  peasants,  consisting  of  brown  bread,  beef, 
cheese,  and  garlic.  His  grandfather  had  decided 
that  this  regimen  was  essential  for  the  educa- 
tion of  a  prince  who  was  to  humble  the  proud 
monarchy  of  Spain,  and  regain  the  territory 
which  had  been  so  unjustly  wrested  from  his 
ancestors. 

When  Henry  was  about  six  years  of  age,  his 
grandfather,  by  gradual  decay,  sank  sorrowing- 


24  KING   HENRY   IV.          [1558. 

Jeunne  d'Albret  ascends  the  throne.  Residence  in  Bourn. 

ly  into  his  grave.  Consequently,  his  mother, 
Jeanne  d'Albret,  ascended  the  throne  ot'Navarre. 
Her  husband,  Antony  of  Bourbon,  was  a  rough, 
fearless  old  soldier,  with  nothing  to  distinguish 
him  from  the  multitude  who  do  but  live,  fight, 
and  die.  Jeanne  and  her  husband  were  in  Par- 
is at  the  time  of  the  death  of  her  father.  They 
immediately  hastened  to  Beam,  the  capital  of 
Navarre,  to  take  possession  of  the  dominions 
which  had  thus  descended  to  them.  The  little 
Henry  was  then  brought  from  his  wild  mount- 
ain home  to  reside  with  his  mother  in  the  royal 
palace.  Though  Navarre  was  but  a  feeble  king- 
dom, the  grandeur  of  its  court  was  said  to  have 
been  unsurpassed,  at  that  time,  by  that  of  any 
other  in  Europe.  The  intellectual  education  of 
Henry  had  been  almost  entirely  neglected ;  but 
the  hardihood  of  his  body  had  given  such  vigor 
and  energy  to  his  mind,  that  he  was  now  pre- 
pared to  distance  in  intellectual  pursuits,  with 
.perfect  ease,  those  whose  infantile  brains  had 
been  overtasked  with  study. 

Henry  remained  in  Beam  with  his  parents 
two  years,  and  in  that  time  ingrafted  many 
courtly  graces  upon  the  free  and  fetterless  car- 
riage he  had  acquired  among  the  mountains. 
His  mind  expanded  with  remarkable  rapidity, 


1558.]  CHILDHOOD   AND  YOUTH.         25 

Marriage  of  Mary,  Queen  of  Scots.  Betrothal  of  Henry. 

and  he  became  one  of  the  most  beautiful  and 
engaging  of  children. 

About  this  time  Mary,  Queen  of  Scots,  was 
to  be  married  to  the  Dauphin  Francis,  son  of 
the  King  of  France.  Their  nuptials  were  to  be 
celebrated  with  great  magnificence.  The  King 
and  Queen  of  Navarre  returned  to  the  court  of 
France  to  attend  the  marriage.  They  took  with 
them  their  son.  His  beauty  and  vivacity  ex- 
cited much  admiration  in  the  French  metropolis. 
One  day  the  young  prince,  then  but  six  or  sev- 
en years  of  age,  came  running  into  the  room 
where  his  father  and  Henry  II.  of  France  were 
conversing,  and,  by  his  artlessness  and  grace, 
strongly  attracted  the  attention  of  the  French 
monarch.  The  king  fondly  took  the  playful 
child  in  his  arms,  and  said  affectionately, 

"  Will  you  be  my  son  ?" 

"No,  sire,  no!  that  is  my  father,"  replied 
the  ardent  boy,  pointing  to  the  King  of  Na- 
varre. 

"Well,  then,  will  you  be  my  son-in-law?"  de- 
manded Henry. 

"  Oh  yes,  most  willingly,"  the  prince  replied. 

Henry  II.  had  a  daughter  Marguerite,  a  year 
or  two  younger  than  the  Prince  of  Navarre,  and 
it  was  immediately  resolved  between  the  two 


26  KING   HENEY   IV.          [1558. 

Henry's  tutor.  Remark  of  Dr.  Johnson. 

parents  that  the  young  princes  should  be  con- 
sidered as  betrothed. 

Soon  after  this  the  King  and  Queen  of  Na- 
varre, with  their  son,  returned  to  the  mountain- 
ous domain  which  Jeanne  so  ardently  loved. 
The  queen  devoted  herself  assiduously  to  the 
education  of  the  young  prince,  providing  for  him 
the  ablest  teachers  whom  that  age  could  afford. 
A  gentleman  of  very  distinguished  attainments, 
named  La  Gaucherie,  undertook  the  general  su- 
perintendence of  his  studies.  The  young  prince 
was  at  this  time  an  exceedingly  energetic,  active, 
ambitious  boy,  very  inquisitive  respecting  all 
matters  of  information,  and  passionately  fond 
of  study. 

Dr.  Johnson,  with  his  rough  and  impetuous 
severity,  has  said, 

"  It  is  impossible  to  get  Latin  into  a  boy  un- 
less you  flog  it  into  him." 

The  experience  of  La  Gaucherie,  however,  did 
not  confirm  this  sentiment.  Henry  always  went 
with  alacrity  to  his  Latin  and  his  Greek.  His 
judicious  teacher  did  not  disgust  his  mind  witli 
long  and  laborious  rules,  but  introduced  him  at 
once  to  words  and  phrases,  while  gradually  he 
developed  the  grammatical  structure  of  the  lan- 
guage. The  vigorous  mind  of  Henry,  grasping 


1560.]   CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH.          27 

Henry'1;  m^tto.  La  Gauoherie's  method  of  instruction. 

eagerly  at  intellectual  culture,  made  rapid  prog- 
ress, and  he  was  soon  able  to  read  and  write 
both  Latin  and  Greek  with  fluency,  and  ever  re- 
tained the  power  of  quoting,  with  great  facility 
and  appositeness,  from  the  classical  writers  of 
Athens  and  of  Home.  Even  in  these  early  days 
he  seized  upon  the  Greek  phrase  "77  VLKUV  rj 
d-oOavelv,"  to  conquer  or  to  die,  and  adopted  it 
for  his  motto. 

La  Gaucherie  was  warmly  attached  to  the 
principles  of  the  Protestant  faith.  lie  made  a 
companion  of  his  noble  pupil,  and  taught  him 
by  conversation  in  pleasant  walks  and  rides  as 
well  as  by  books.  It  was  his  practice  to  have 
him  commit  to  memory  any  fine  passage  in 
prose  or  verse  which  inculcated  generous,  and 
lofty  ideas.  The  mind  of  Henry  thus  became 
rilled  with  beautiful  images  and  noble  senti- 
ments from  the  classic  writers  of  France.  These 
gems  of  literature  exerted  a  powerful  influence 
in  moulding  his  character,  and  he  was  fond  of 
quoting  them  as  the  guide  of  his  life.  Such 
passages  as  the  following  were  frequently  on 
the  lips  of  the  young  prince : 

"  Over  their  subjects  princes  bear  the  rule, 
But  God,  more  mighty,  governs  kings  themselves." 

Soon  after  the  return  of  the  King  and  Queen 


28  KING   HENRY   IV.          [1560. 

Death  of  Henry  II.  Catharine  de  Medicis  regent. 

of  Navarre  to  their  own  kingdom,  Henry  II. 
of  France  died,  leaving  the  crown  to  his  son 
Charles,  a  feeble  boy  both  in  body  and  in  mind. 
As  Charles  was  but  ten  or  twelve  years  of  age, 
his  mother,  Catharine  de  Medicis,  was  appoint- 
ed regent  during  his  minority.  Catharine  was 
a  woman  of  great  strength  of  mind,  but  of  the 
utmost  depravity  of  heart.  There  was  no  crime 
ambition  could  instigate  her  to  commit  from 
which,  in  the  slightest  degree,  she  would  recoil. 
Perhaps  the  history  of  the  world  retains  not  an- 
other instance  in  which  a  mother  could  so  far 
forget  the  yearnings  of  nature  as  to  endeavor, 
studiously  and  perseveringly,  to  deprave  the 
morals,  and  by  vice  to  enfeeble  the  constitu- 
tion of  her  son,  that  she  might  retain  the  power 
which  belonged  to  him.  This  proud  and  dis- 
solute woman  looked  with  great  solicitude  upon 
the  enterprising  and  energetic  spirits  of  the 
young  Prince  of  Navarre.  There  were  many 
providential  indications  that  ere  long  Henry 
would  be  a  prominent  candidate  for  the  throne 
of  France. 

Plutarch's  Lives  of  Ancient  Heroes  has  per- 
haps been  more  influential  than  any  other  un- 
inspired book  in  invigorating  genius  and  in  en- 
kindling a  passion  for  great  achievements.  Na- 


1560.]   CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH.         29 

Influence  of  Plutarch.  Religious  agitation. 

poleon  was  a  careful  student  and  a  great  ad- 
mirer of  Plutarch.  His  spirit  was  entranced 
with  the  grandeur  of  the  Greek  and  Roman  he- 

O 

roes,  arid  they  were  ever  to  him  as  companions 
and  bosom  friends.  During  the  whole  of  his 
stormy  career,  their  examples  animated  him,  and 
his  addresses  and  proclamations  were  often  in- 
vigorated by  happy  quotations  from  classic  sto- 
ry. Henry,  with  similar  exaltation  of  genius, 
read  and  re-read  the  pages  of  Plutarch  with  the 
most  absorbing  delight.  Catharine,  Avith  an 
eagle  eye,  watched  these  indications  of  a  lofty 
mind.  Her  solicitude  was  roused  lest  the  young 
Prince  of  Navarre  should,  with  his  commanding 
genius,  supplant  her  degenerate  house. 

At  the  close  of  the  sixteenth  century,  the  pe- 
riod of  which  we  write,  all  Europe  was  agitated 
by  the  great  controversy  between  the  Catholics 

•/  »/ 

and  the  Protestants.  The  writings  of  Luther, 
Calvin,  and  other  reformers  had  aroused  the  at- 
tention of  the  whole  Christian  world.  In  En- 
gland and  Scotland  the  ancient  faith  had  been 
overthrown,  and  the  doctrines  of  the  Reforma- 
tion were,  in  those  kingdoms,  established.  In 
France,  where  the  writings  of  Calvin  had  been 
extensively  circulated,  the  Protestants  had  also 
become  quite  numerous,  embracing  prenerally 


30  KING   HENRY  IV.          [1560. 

The  Huguenots.  The  present  controversy. 

the  most  intelligent  portion  of  the  populace. 
The  Protestants  were  in  France  called  Hugue- 
nots, but  for  what  reason  is  not  now  known. 
They  were  sustained  by  many  noble  families, 
and  had  for  their  leaders  the  Prince  of  Conde, 
Admiral  Coligni,  and  the  house  of  Navarre. 
There  were  arrayed  against  them  the  power  of 
the  crown,  many  of  the  most  powerful  nobles, 
and  conspicuously  the  almost  regal  house  of 
Guise. 

It  is  perhaps  difficult  for  a  Protestant  to  write 
upon  this  subject  with  perfect  impartiality,  how- 
ever earnestly  he  may  desire  to  do  so.  The 
lapse  of  two  hundred  years  has  not  terminated 
the  great  conflict.  The  surging  strife  has  swept 
across  the  ocean,  and  even  now,  with  more  or 
less  of  vehemence,  rages  in  all  the  states  of  this 
new  world.  Though  the  weapons  of  blood  are 
laid  aside,  the  mighty  controversy  is  still  unde- 
cided. 

The  advocates  of  the  old  faith  were  determ- 
ined to  maintain  their  creed,  and  to  force  all  to 
its  adoption,  at  whatever  price.  They  deemed 
heresy  the  greatest  of  all  crimes,  and  thought — 
and  doubtless  many  conscientiously  thought — 
that  it  should  be  exterminated  even  by  the  pains 
of  torture  and  death.  The  French  Parliament 


1560.]   CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH.          31 

TUe  Sorbonne.  Purging  the  empire. 

adopted  for  its  motto,  "One  religion,  one  law, 
one  king."  They  declared  that  two  religions 
could  no  more  be  endured  in  a  kingdom  than 
two  governments* 

At  Paris  there  was  a  celebrated  theological 
school  called  the  Sorbonne,  It  included  in  its 
faculty  the  most  distinguished  doctors  of  the 
Catholic  Church.  The  decisions  and  the  de- 
crees of  tlie  Sorbonne  were  esteemed  highly  au- 
thoritative»  The  views  of  the  Sorbonne  were  al- 
most invariably  asked  in  reference  to  any  meas- 
ures affecting  the  Church. 

In  1525  the  court  presented  the  following 
question  to  the  Sorbonne:  '•'•How  can  we  sup- 
press  and  extirpate  the  damnable  doctrine  of 
Luther  from  this  very  Christian  kingdom,  and 
purge  it  from  it  entirely  ?" 

The  prompt  reply  was,  "  The  heresy  has  al- 
ready been  endured  too  long.  It  must  be  pur- 
sued icith  the  extremest  rigor,  or  it  will  over- 
throw the  throne." 

Two  years  after  this,  Pope  Clement  VII.  sent 
a  communication  to  the  Parliament  of  Paris, 
stating, 

"  It  is  necessary,  in  this  great  and  astound- 
ing disorder,  which  arises  from  the  rage  of  Sa- 
tan, and  from  the  fury  and  impiety  of  his  instru- 


32  KING   HENRY   IV.  [1533. 

The  burning  chamber.  Persecution  of  the  Protestants. 

merits,  that  every  body  exert  himself  to  guard 
the  common  safety,  seeing  that  this  madness 
would  not  only  embroil  and  destroy  religion, 
but  also  all  principality,  nobility,  laws,  orders, 
and  ranks." 

The  Protestants  were  pursued  by  the  most 
unrelenting  persecution.  The  Parliament  estab- 
lished a  court  called  the  burning  chamber,  be- 
cause all  who  were  convicted  of  heresy  were 
burned.  The  estates  of  those  who,  to  save  their 
lives,  fled  from  the  kingdom,  were  sold,  and  their 
children,  who  were  left  behind,  were  pursued 
with  merciless  cruelty. 

The  Protestants,  with  boldness  which  relig- 
ious faith  alone  could  inspire,  braved  all  these 
perils.  They  resolutely  declared  that  the  Bible 
taught  their  faith,  and  their  faith  only,  and  that 
no  earthly  power  could  compel  them  to  swerve 
from  the  truth.  Notwithstanding  the  perils  of 
exile,  torture,  and  death,  they  persisted  in  preach- 
ing what  they  considered  the  pure  Gospel  of 
Christ.  In  1533  Calvin  was  driven  from  Paris. 
When  one  said  to  him,  "  Mass  must  be  true, 
since  it  is  celebrated  in  all  Christendom  ;"  he 
replied,  pointing  to  the  Bible, 

"  There  is  my  mass."  Then  raising  his  eyes 
to  heaven,  he  solemnly  said,  "  O  Lord,  if  in 


1535.]   CHILDHOOD  AND   YOUTH.         33 


Calvin  and  his  writings. 


the  day  of  judgment  thou  chargest  me  with  not 
having  been  at  mass,  I  will  say  to  thee  with 
truth,  *  Lord,  thou  hast  not  commanded  it.  Be- 
hold thy  law.  In  it  I  have  not  found  any  other  . 
sacrifice  than  that  which  was  immolated  on  the 
altar  of  the  cross.' ' 

In  1535  Calvin's  celebrated  "  Institutes  of 
the  Christian  Religion"  were  published,  the  great 
reformer  then  residing  in  the  city  of  Basle. 
This  great  work  became  the  banner  of  the  Prot- 
estants of  France.  It  was  read  with  avidity  in 
the  cottage  of  the  peasant,  in  the  work-shop  of 
the  artisan,  and  in  the  chateau  of  the  noble.  In 
reference  to  this  extraordinary  man,  of  whom  it 
has  been  said, 

"  On  Calvin  some  think  Heaven's  own  mantle  fell, 
While  others  deem  him  instrument  of  hell," 

Theodore  Beza  writes,  "I  do  not  believe  that 
his  equal  can  be  found.  Besides  preaching  ev- 
ery day  from  week  to  week,  very  often,  and  as 
much  as  he  was  able,  he  preached  twice  every 
Sunday.  He  lectured  on  theology  three  times 

v  O»/ 

a  week.  He  delivered  addresses  to  the  Consist- 
ory, and  also  instructed  at  length  every  Friday 
before  the  Bible  Conference,  which  we  call  the 
congregation.  He  continued  this  course  so  con- 
stantly that  he  never  failed  a  single  time  except 
13—3 


34  KING   HENRY  IV.  [1564. 


Calvin's  physical  debility.  Continued  labors. 


in  extreme  illness.  Moreover,  who  could  re- 
count his  other  common  or  extraordinary  la- 
bors ?  I  know  of  no  man  of  our  age  who  has 
had  more  to  hear,  to  answer,  to  write,  nor  things 
of  greater  importance.  The  number  and  qual- 
ity of  his  writings  alone  is  enough  to  astonish 
any  man  who  sees  them,  and  still  more  those 
who  read  them.  And  what  renders  his  labors 
still  more  astonishing  is,  that  he  had  a  body  so 
feeble  by  nature,  so  debilitated  by  night  labors 
and  too  great  abstemiousness,  and,  what  is  more, 
subject  to  so  many  maladies,  that  no  man  who 
saw  him  could  understand  how  he  had  lived  so 
long.  And  yet,  for  all  that,  he  never  ceased  to 
labor  night  and  day  in  the  work  of  the  Lord. 
We  entreated  him  to  have  more  regard  for  him- 
self; but  his  ordinary  reply  was  that  he  was  do- 
ing nothing,  and  that  we  should  allow  God  to 
find  him  always  watching,  and  working  as  he 
could  to  his  latest  breath." 

Calvin  died  in  1564,  eleven  years  after  the 
birth  of  Henry  of  Navarre,  at  the  age  of  fifty- 
five.  For  several  years  he  was  so  abstemious 
that  he  had  eaten  but  one  meal  a  day.* 

*  In  reference  to  the  execution  of  Servetns  for  heresy,  an 
event  which,  in  the  estimation  of  many,  has  seriously  tar- 
nished the  reputation  of  Calvin,  the  celebrated  French  his- 


1560.]   CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH.         35 

Inhabitants  of  France.  Execution  of  Servetus. 

At  this  time  the  overwhelming  majority  of 
the  inhabitants  of  France  were  Catholics — it  has 
generally  been  estimated  a  hundred  to  one ;  but 
the  doctrines  of  the  reformers  gained  ground  un- 
til, toward  the  close  of  the  century,  about  the 
time  of  the  Massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew,  the 
Protestants  composed  about  one  sixth  of  the 
population. 

The  storm  of  persecution  which  fell  upon 
them  was  so  terrible  that  they  were  compelled 
to  protect  themselves  by  force  of  arms.  Grad- 
ually they  gained  the  ascendency  in  several  cit- 
ies, which  they  fortified,  and  where  they  pro- 

torian,  M.  Mignet,  in  a  very  able  dissertation,  establishes  the 
following  points : 

1.  Servetus  was  not  an  ordinary  heretic ;  he  was  a  bold 
pantheist,  and  outraged  the  dogma  of  all  Christian  commun- 
ions by  saying  that  God,  in  three  persons,  was  a  Cerberus, 
a  monster  with  three  heads.  2.  He  had  already  been  con- 
demned to  death  by  the  Catholic  doctors  at  Vienne  in  Dau- 
phiny.  3.  The  affair  was  judged,  not  by  Calvin,  but  by  the 
magistrates  of  Geneva  ;  and  if  it  is  objected  that  his  advice 
must  have  influenced  their  decision,  it  is  necessary  to  recol- 
lect that  the  councils  of  the  other  reformed  cantons  of  Switz- 
erland approved  the  sentence  with  a  unanimous  voice.  4. 
It  was  of  the  utmost  importance  for  the  Reformation  to  sep- 
arate distinctly  its  cause  from  that  of  such  an  unbeliever  as 
Servetus.  The  Catholic  Church,  which  in  our  day  accuses 
Calvin  of  having  participated  in  his  condemnation,  much 
more  would  have  accused  him,  in  the  sixteenth  century,, 
with  having  solicited  his  acquittal. 


36  KING  HENRY  IV,          [1560. 

Antony  of  Bourbon.  Jeanne  d'Albret 

tected  refugees  from  the  persecution  which  had 
driven  them  from  the  cities  where  the  Catholics 
predominated.  Such  was  the  deplorable  con- 
dition of  France  at  the  time  of  which  we  write. 

In  the  little  kingdom  of  Navarre,  which  was 
tut  about  one  third  as  large  as  the  State  of 
Massachusetts,  and  which,  since  its  dismember- 
ment, contained  less  than  three  hundred  thou- 
sand inhabitants,  nearly  every  individual  was  a 
Protestant.  Antony  of  Bourbon,  who  had  mar- 
ried the  queen,  was  a  Frenchman.  With  him, 
.as  with  many  others  in  that  day,  religion  was 
merely  a  badge  of  party  politics.  Antony  spent 
much  of  his  time  in  the  voluptuous  court  of 
France,  and  as  he  was,  of  course,  solicitous  for 
popularity  there,  he  espoused  the  Catholic  side 
of  the  controversy. 

Jeanne  d'Albret  was  energetically  a  Protest- 
ant. Apparently,  her  faith  was  founded  in  deep 
religious  conviction.  When  Catharine  of  Med- 
ici advised  her  to  follow  her  husband  into  the 
Catholic  Church,  she  replied  with  firmness, 

"  Madam,  sooner  than  ever  go  to  mass,  if  I 
had  my  kingdom  and  my  son  both  in  my  hands, 
I  would  hurl  them  to  the  bottom  of  the  sea  be- 
fore they  should  change  my  purpose." 

Jeanne  had  been  married  to  Antony  merely 


1560.]   CHILDHOOD  AND   YOUTH.         37 

The  separation.  Different  life. 

as  a  matter  of  state  policy.  There  was  noth- 
ing in  his  character  to  win  a  noble  woman's 
love.  With  no  social  or  religious  sympathies, 
they  lived  together  for  a  time  in  a  state  of  re- 
spectful indifference  ;  but  the  court  of  Navarre 
was  too  quiet  and  religious  to  satisfy  the  taste 
of  the  voluptuous  Parisian.  He  consequently 
spent  most  of  his  time  enjoying  the  gayeties  of 
the  metropolis  of  France.  A  separation,  mutu- 
ally and  amicably  agreed  upon,  was  the  result. 

Antony  conveyed  with  him  to  Paris  his  son 
Henry,  and  there  took  up  his  residence.  Am  idst 
the  changes  and  the  fluctuations  of  the  ever- 
agitated  metropolis,  he  eagerly  watched  for  op- 
portunities to  advance  his  own  fame  and  for- 
tune. As  Jeanne  took  leave  of  her  beloved 
child,  she  embraced  him  tenderly,  and  with  tears 
entreated  him  never  to  abandon  the  faith  in 
which  he  had  been  educated. 

Jeanne  d'Albret,  with  her  little  daughter,  re- 
mained in  the  less  splendid  but  more  moral  and 
refined  metropolis  of  her  paternal  domain.  A 
mother's  solicitude  and  prayers,  however,  follow- 
ed her  son.  Antony  consented  to  retain  as  a 
tutor  for  Henry  the  wise  and  learned  La  Gau- 
cherie,  who  was  himself  strongly  attached  to  the 
reformed  religion. 


38  KING   HENRY   IV.          [1560. 

R.ige  of  the  Pope.  Growth  of  Prote.  tantisin. 

The  inflexibility  of  Jeanne  d'Albret,  and  the 
refuge  she  ever  cheerfully  afforded  to  the  perse- 
cuted Protestants,  quite  enraged  the  Pope.  As 
a  measure  of  intimidation,  he  at  one  time  sum- 
moned her  as  a  heretic  to  appear  before  the  In- 
quisition within  six  months,  under  penalty  of 
losing  her  crown  and  her  possessions.  Jeanne, 
unawed  by  the  threat,  appealed  to  the  monarchs 
of  Europe  for  protection.  None  were  disposed 
in  that  age  to  encourage  such  arrogant  claims, 
and  Pope  Pius  VI.  was  compelled  to  moderate 
his  haughty  tone.  A  plot,  however,  was  then 
formed  to  seize  her  and  her  children,  and  hand 
them  over  to  the  "tender  mercies"  of  the  Span- 
ish Inquisition.  But  this  plot  also  failed. 

In  Paris  itself  there  were  many  bold  Protest- 
ant nobles  who,  with  arms  at  their  side,  and  stout 
retainers  around  them,  kept  personal  persecu- 
tion at  bay.  They  were  generally  men  of  com- 
manding character,  of  intelligence  and  integri- 
ty. The  new  religion,  throughout  the  country, 
was  manifestly  growing  fast  in  strength,  and  at 
times,  even  in  the  saloons  of  the  palace,  the  rival 
parties  were  pretty  nearly  balanced.  Although, 
throughout  the  kingdom  of  France,  the  Catho- 
lics were  vastly  more  numerous  than  the  Prot- 
estants, yet  as  England  and  much  of  Germany 


1560.]   CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH.          39 

Catharine's  blandishment*.  Undecided  action. 

had  warmly  espoused  the  cause  of  the  reform- 
ers, it  was  perhaps  difficult  to  decide  which  par- 
ty, on  the  whole,  in  Europe,  was  the  strongest. 
Nobles  and  princes  of  the  highest  rank  were,  in 
all  parts  of  Europe,  ranged  under  either  banner. 
In  the  two  factions  thus  contending  for  domin- 
ion, there  were,  of  course,  some  who  were  not 
much  influenced  by  conscientious  considera- 
tions, but  who  were  merely  struggling  for  polit- 
ical power. 

When  Henry  first  arrived  in  Paris,  Catharine 
kept  a  constant  watch  over  his  words  and  his 
actions.  She  spared  no  possible  efforts  to  bring 
him  under  her  entire  control.  Efforts  were 
made  to  lead  his  teacher  to  check  his  enthusi- 
asm for  lofty  exploits,  and  to  surrender  him  to 
the  claims  of  frivolous  amusement.  This  de- 
testable queen  presented  before  the  impassion- 
ed young  man  all  the  blandishments  of  female 
beauty,  that  she  might  betray  him  to  licentious 
indulgence.  In  some  of  these  infamous  arts 
she  was  but  too  successful. 

Catharine,  in  her  ambitious  projects,  was  oft- 
en undecided  as  to  which  cause  she  should  es- 
pouse and  which  party  she  should  call  to  her 
aid.  At  one  time  she  would  favor  the  Protest- 
ants, and  again  the  Catholics.  At  about  this 


40  KING   HENRY   IV.          [1562. 

Seizure  of  the  queen.  Civil  war. 

time  she  suddenly  turned  to  the  Protestants, 
and  courted  them  so  decidedly  as  greatly  to 
alarm  and  exasperate. the  Catholics.  Some  of 
the  Catholic  nobles  formed  a  conspiracy,  and 
seized  Catharine  and  her  son  at  the  palace  of 
Fontainebleau,  and  held  them  both  as  captives. 
The  proud  queen  was  almost  frantic  with  indig- 
nation at  the  insult. 

The  Protestants,  conscious  that  the  conspir- 
acy was  aimed  against  them,  rallied  for  the  de- 
fense of  the  queen.  The  Catholics  all  over  the 
kingdom  sprang  to  arms.  A  bloody  civil  war 
ensued.  Nearly  all  Europe  was  drawn  into  the 
conflict.  Germany  and  England  came  with  ea- 
ger armies  to  the  aid  of  the  Protestants.  Cath- 
arine hated  the  proud  and  haughty  Elizabeth, 
England's  domineering  queen,  and  was  very 
jealous  of  her  fame  and  power.  She  resolved 
that  she  would  not  be  indebted  to  her  ambitious 
rival  for  aid.  She  therefore,  most  strangely, 
threw  herself  into  the  arms  of  the  Catholics, 
and  ardently  espoused  their  cause.  The  Prot- 
estants soon  found  her,  with  all  the  energy  of 
her  powerful  mind,  heading  their  foes.  France 
was  deluged  in  blood. 

A  large  number  of  Protestants  threw  them- 
selves into  Rouen.  Antony  of  Bourbon  headed 


1562.]   CHILDHOOD   AND   YOUTH.          41 

Death  of  Antony  of  Bourbon.  Effects  of  the  war. 

an  army  of  the  Catholics  to  besiege  the  city. 
A  ball  struck  him,  and  he  fell  senseless  to  the 
ground.  His  attendants  placed  him,  covered 
with  blood,  in  a  carriage,  to  convey  him  to  a 
hospital.  While  in  the  carriage  and  jostling 
over  the  rough  ground,  and  as  the  thunders  of 
the  cannonade  were  pealing  in  his  ears,  the  spir- 
it of  the  blood-stained  soldier  ascended  to  the 
tribunal  of  the  God  of  Peace.  Henry  was  now 
left  fatherless,  and  subject  entirely  to  the  con- 
trol of  his  mother,  whom  he  most  tenderly  loved, 
and  whose  views,  as  one  of  the  most  prominent 
leaders  of  the  Protestant  party,  he  was  strong- 
ly inclined  to  espouse. 

The  sanguinary  conflict  still  raged  with  un- 
abated violence  throughout  the  whole  kingdom, 
arming  brother  against  brother,  friend  against 
friend.  Churches  were  sacked  and  destroyed ; 
vast  extents  of  country  were  almost  depopu- 
lated ;  cities  were  surrendered  to  pillage,  and 
atrocities  innumerable  perpetrated,  from  which 
it  would  seem  that  even  fiends  would  revolt. 
France  was  filled  with  smouldering  ruins  ;  and 
vhe  wailing  cry  of  widows  and  of  orphans,  thus 
made  by  the  wrath  of  man,  ascended  from  every 
plain  and  every  hill-side  to  the  ear  of  that  God 
who  has  said,  "  Thou  slialt  love  thy  neighbor 
as  thyself." 


42  KING   HENRY  IV.          [1562. 

Liberty  of  worship.  Indignation  and  animosity. 

At  last  both  parties  were  weary  of  the  hor- 
rid strife.  The  Catholics  were  struggling  to 
extirpate  what  they  deemed  ruinous  heresy  from 
the  kingdom.  The  Protestants  were  repelling 
the  assault,  and  contending,  not  for  general  lib- 
erty of  conscience,  but  that  their  doctrines  were 
true,  and  therefore  should  be  sustained.  Terms 
of  accommodation  were  proposed,  and  the  Cath- 
olics made  the  great  concession,  as  they  regard- 
ed it,  of  allowing  the  Protestants  to  conduct 
public  worship  outside  of  the  watts  of  towns. 
The  Protestants  accepted  these  terms,  and 
sheathed  the  sword ;  but  many  of  the  more  fa- 
natic Catholics  were  greatly  enraged  at  this  tol- 
eration. The  Guises,  the  most  arrogant  family 
of  nobles  the  world  has  ever  known,  retired  from 
Paris  in  indignation,  deqlaring  that  they  would 
not  witness  such  a  triumph  of  heresy.  The 
decree  which  granted  this  poor  boon  was  the  fa- 
mous edict  of  January,  1562,  issued  from  St. 
Germain.  But  such  a  peace  as  this  could  only 
be  a  truce  caused  by  exhaustion.  Deep-seated 
animosity  still  rankled  in  the  bosom  of  both 
parties ;  and,  notwithstanding  all  the  woes  which 
desolating  wars  had  engendered,  the  spirit  of 
religious  intolerance  was  eager  again  to  grasp 
the  weapons  of  deadly  strife. 


1562.]   CHILDHOOD  AND  YOUTH.         43 

Religious  toleration.  Belief  of  the  Romanists.  ' 

During  the  sixteenth  century  the  doctrine  of 
religious  toleration  was  recognized  by  no  one. 
That  great  truth  had  not  then  even  dawned 
upon  the  world.  The  noble  toleration  so  earn- 
estly advocated  by  Bayle  and  Locke  a  century 
later,  was  almost  a  new  revelation  to  the  human 
mind ;  but  in  the  sixteenth  century  it  would 
have  been  regarded  as  impious,  and  rebellion 
against  God  to  have  affirmed  that  error  was 
not  to  be  pursued  and  punished.  The  reform- 
ers did  not  advocate  the  view  that  a  man  had  a 
right  to  believe  what  he  pleased,  and  to  dissem- 
inate that  belief.  They  only  declared  that  they 
were  bound,  at  all  hazards,  to  believe  the  truth; 
that  the  views  which  they  cherished  were  true, 
and  that  therefore  they  should  be  protected  in 
them.  They  appealed  to  the  Bible,  and  chal- 
lenged their  adversaries  to  meet  them  there. 
Our  fathers  must  not  be  condemned  for  not  be- 
ing in  advance  of  the  age  in  which  they  lived. 
That  toleration  which  allows  a  man  to  adopt, 
without  any  civil  disabilities,  any  mode  of  wor- 
ship that  does  not  disturb  the  peace  of  society, 
exists,  as  we  believe,  only  in  the  United  States. 
Even  in  England  Dissenters  are  exc  luded  from 
many  privileges.  Throughout  the  whole  of 
Catholic  Europe  no  religious  toleration  is  rec- 


44  KING   HENRY  IV.          [1562. 

Establishment  of  freedom  of  conscience. 

ognized.  The  Emperor  Napoleon,  during  his 
reign,  established  the  most  perfect  freedom  of 
conscience  in  every  government  his  influence 
could  control.  His  downfall  re-established 
through  Europe  the  dominion  of  intolerance. 

The  Reformation,  in  contending  for  the  right 
of  private  judgment  in  contradiction  to  the 
claims  of  councils,  maintained  a  principle  which 
necessarily  involved  the  freedom  of  conscience. 
This  was  not  then  perceived ;  but  time  devel- 
oped the  truth.  The  Reformation  became,  in 
reality,  the  mother  of  all  religious  liberty. 


CIVIL   WAR.  45 

llimry  but  little  acquainted  with  his  parents.         Indecision  of  Henry. 


CHAPTER  II. 
CIVIL    WAR. 

WHILE  France  was  thus  deluged  with  the 
blood  of  a  civil  war,  young  Henry  was 
busily  pursuing  his  studies  in  college.  He 
could  have  had  but  little  affection  for  liis  father, 
for  the  stern  soldier  had  passed  most  of  his 
days  in  the  tented  field,  and  his  son  had  hardly 
known  him.  From  his  mother  he  had  long  been 
separated ;  but  he  cherished  her  memory  with 
affectionate  regard,  and  his  predilections  strong- 
ly inclined  him  toward  the  faith  which  he  knew 
that  she  had  so  wrarmly  espoused.  It  was,  how- 
ever, in  its  political  aspects  that  Henry  mainly 
contemplated  the  question.  He  regarded  the 
two  sects  merely  as  two  political  parties  strug- 
gling for  power.  For  some -time  he  did  not  ven- 
ture to  commit  himself  openly,  but,  availing  him- 
self of  the  privilege  of  his  youth,  carefully  stud- 
ied the  principles  and  the  prospects  of  the  con- 
tending factions,  patiently  waiting  for  the  time 
to  come  in  which  he  should  introduce  his  strong 
arm  into  the  conflict.  Each  party,  aware  that 


46  KING   HENRY   IV. 

Hypocrisy  of  Catharine.  She  desires  to  save  Henry, 

his  parents  had  espoused  opposite  sides,  and  re- 
garding him  as  an  invaluable  accession  to  either 
cause,  adopted  all  possible  allurements  to  win 
his  favor. 

Catharine,  as  unprincipled  as  she  was  ambi- 
tious, invited  him  to  her  court,  lavished  upon 
him,  with  queenly  profusion,  caresses  and  flat- 
tery, and  enticed  him  with  all  those  blandish- 
ments which  might  most  effectually  enthrall  the 
impassioned  spirit  of  youth.  Voluptuousness, 
gilded  with  its  most  dazzling  and  deceitful  en- 
chantments, was  studiously  presented  to  his- 
eye.  The  queen  was  all  love  and  complaisance. 
She  received  him  to  her  cabinet  council.  She 
affected  to  regard  him  as  her  chief  confidant. 
She  had  already  formed  the  design  of  perfidi- 
ously throwing  the  Protestants  off  their  guard 
by  professions  of  friendship,  and  then,  by  indis- 
criminate massacre,  of  obliterating  from  the 
kingdom  every  vestige  of  the  reformed  faith. 
The  great  mass  of  the  people  being  Catholics, 
she  thought  that,  by  a  simultaneous  uprising  all 
over  the  kingdom,  the  Protestants  might  be  so 
generally  destroyed  that  not  enough  would  be 
left  to  cause  her  any  serious  embarrassments. 

For  many  reasons  Catharine  wished  to  save 
Henry  from  the  doom  impending  over  his  friends, 


CIVIL  WAR.  47 

A  significant  reply.  Indications  of  future  greatness. 

if  she  could,  by  any  means,  win  him  to  her  side. 
She  held  many  interviews  with  the  highest  ec- 
clesiastics upon  the  subject  of  the  contemplated 
massacre.  At  one  time,  when  she  was  urging 
the  expediency  of  sparing  some  few  Protestant 
nobles  who  had  been  her  personal  friends,  Hen- 
ry overheard  the  significant  reply  from  the  Duke 
of  Alva,"The  head  of  a  salmon  is  worth  a  hund- 
red frogs."  The  young  prince  meditated  deep- 
ly upon  the  import  of  those  words.  Surmising 
their  significance,  and  alarmed  for  the  safety  of 
his  mother,  he  dispatched  a  trusty  messenger  to 
communicate  to  her  his  suspicions. 

His  mind  was  now  thoroughly  aroused  to 
vigilance,  to  careful  and  hourly  scrutiny  of  the 
plots  and  counterplots  which  were  ever  forming 
around  him.  While  others  of  his  age  were  ab- 
sorbed in  the  pleasures  of  licentiousness  and 
gaming,  to  which  that  corrupt  court  was  aban- 
doned, Henry,  though  he  had  not  escaped  un» 
spotted  from  the  contamination  which  surround- 
ed him,  displayed,  by  the  dignity  of  his  demean- 
or and  the  elevation  of  his  character,  those  ex* 
traordinary  qualities  which  so  remarkably  dis- 
tinguished him  in  future  life,  and  which  indi- 
cated, even  then,  that  he  was  born  to  command. 
One  of  the  grandees  of  the  Spanish  court,  th» 


48  KING   HENEY   IV.          [1565- 

The  prophecy.  •  Visit  of  Catharine. 

Duke  of  Medina,  after  meeting  him  incidental- 
ly but  for  a  few  moments,  remarked, 

"  It  appears  to  me  that  this  young  prince  is 
either  an  emperor,  or  is  destined  soon  to  become 
one." 

Henry  was  very  punctilious  in  regard  to  eti- 
quette, and  would  allow  no  one  to  treat  him 
without  due  respect,  or  to  deprive  him  of  the 
position  to  which  he  was  entitled  by  his  rank. 

Jeanne  d'Albret,  the  Queen  of  Navarre,  was 
now  considered  the  most  illustrious  leader  of 
the  Protestant  party.  Catharine,  the  better  to 
disguise  her  infamous  designs,  went  with  Henry, 
in  great  splendor,  to  make  a  friendly  visit  to  his 
mother  in  the  little  Protestant  court  of  Beam. 
Catharine  insidiously  lavished  upon  Jeanne 
d'Albret  the  warmest  congratulations  and  the 
most  winning  smiles,  and  omitted  no  courtly 
blandishments  which  could  disarm  the  suspi- 
cions and  win  the  confidence  of  the  Protestant 
queen.  The  situation  of  Jeanne  in  her  feeble 
dominion  was  extremely  embarrassing.  The 
Pope,  in  consequence  of  her  alleged  heresy,  had 
issued  against  her  the  bull  of  excommunication, 
declaring  her  incapable  of  reigning,  forbidding 
all  good  Catholics,  by  the  peril  of  their  own  sal- 
vation, from  obeying  any  of  her  commands.  / ."• 


1567.]  CIVIL   WAR.  49 

Endeavors  of  Catharine  to  influence  the  young  prince. 

her  own  subjects  were  almost  all  Protestants, 
she  was  in  no  danger  of  any  insurrection  on 
their  part ;  but  this  decree,  in  that  age  of  su- 
perstition and  of  profligacy,  invited  each  neigh- 
boring power  to  seize  upon  her  territory.  The 
only  safety  of  the  queen  consisted  in  the  mutu- 
al jealousies  of  the  rival  kingdoms  of  France  and 
Spain,  neither  of  them  being  willing  that  the 
other  should  receive  such  an  accession  to  its  po- 
litical importance. 

The  Queen  of  Navarre  was  not  at  all  shaken 
in  her  faith,  or  influenced  to  change  her  meas- 
ure; by  the  visit  of  the  French  court  to  her  cap- 
ital. She  regarded,  however,  with  much  solic- 
itude, the  ascendency  which,  it  appeared  to  her, 
Catharine  was  obtaining  over  the  mind  of  her 
son.  Catharine  caressed  and  flattered  the  young 
Prince  of  Navarre  in  every  possible  way.  All 
her  blandishments  were  exerted  to  obtain  a 
commanding  influence  over  his  mind.  She  en- 
deavore,!  unceasingly  to  lure  him  to  indulgence 
in  all  forbidden  pleasure,  and  especially  to  crowd 
upon  his  youthful  and  ardent  passions  all  the 
temptations  which  yielding  female  beauty  could 
present.  After  the  visit  of  a  few  weeks,  during 
which  the  little  court  of  Navarre  had  witnessed 
an  importation  of  profligacy  unknown  before, 
13—4 


50  KING   HENRY   IV.          [1567. 

The  return  visit.  Obstacles  to  the  departure. 

the  Queen  of  France,  with  Henry  and  with  her 
voluptuous  train,  returned  again  to  Paris. 

Jeanne  d'Albret  had  seen  enough  of  the  bland- 
ishments of  vice  to  excite  her  deepest  maternal 
solicitude  in  view  of  the  peril  of  her  son.  She 
earnestly  urged  his  return  to  Navarre;  but  Cath- 
arine continually  threw  such  chains  of  influence 
around  him  that  he  could  not  escape.  At  last 
Jeanne  resolved,  under  the  pretense  of  returning 
the  visit  of  Catharine,  to  go  herself  to  the  court 
of  France  and  try  to  recover  Henry.  With  a 
small  but  illustrious  retinue,  embellished  with 
great  elegance  of  manners  and  purity  of  life,  she 
arrived  in  Paris.  The  Queen  of  France  received 
her  with  every  possible  mark  of  respect  and  af- 
fection, and  lavished  upon  her  entertainments, 
and  fetes,  and  gorgeous  spectacles  until  the 
Queen  of  Navarre  was  almost  bewildered. 

Whenever  Jeanne  proposed  to  return  to  her 
kingdom  there  was  some  very  special  celebra- 
tion appointed,  from  which  Jeanne  could  not, 
without  extreme  rudeness,  break  away.  Thus 
again  and  again  was  Jeanne  frustrated  in  her 
endeavors  to  leave  Paris,  until  she  found,  to  her 
surprise  and  chagrin,  that  both  she  and  her  son 
were  prisoners,  detained  in  captivity  by  bonds 
of  the  most  provoking  politeness.  Catharine 


1567.]  CIVIL   WAR.  53 

• 

'I  he  stratagem.  Its  success. 

managed  so  adroitly  that  Jeanne  could  not  en- 
ter any  complaints,  for  the  shackles  which  were 
thrown  around  her  were  those  of  ostensibly  the 
most  excessive  kindness  and  the  most  unbound- 
ed love.  It  was  of  no  avail  to  provoke  a  quar- 
rel, for  the  Queen  of  Navarre  was  powerless  in 
the  heart  of  France. 

At  last  she  resolved  to  effect  by  stratagem 
that  which  she  could  not  accomplish  openly. 
One  day  a  large  party  had  gone  out  upon  a  hunt- 
ing excursion.  The  Queen  of  Navarre  made 
arrangements  with  her  son,  and  a  few  of  the 
most  energetic  and  trustworthy  gentlemen  of 
her  court,  to  separate  themselves,  as  it  were  ac- 
cidentally, when  in  the  eagerness  of  the  chase, 
from  the  rest  of  the  company,  and  to  meet  at  an 
appointed  place  of  rendezvous.  The  little  band, 
thus  assembled,  turned  the  heads  of  their  horses 
toward  Navarre.  They  drove  with  the  utmost 
speed  day  and  night,  furnishing  themselves  with 
fresh  relays  of  horses,  and  rested  not  till  the 
clatter  of  the  iron  hoofs  of  the  steeds  were  heard 
among  the  mountains  of  Navarre.  Jeanne  left 
a  very  polite  note  upon  her  table  in  the  palace 
of  St.  Cloud,  thanking  Queen  Catharine  for  all 
her  kindness,  and  praying  her  to  excuse  the 
liberty  she  had  taken  in  avoiding  the  pain  of 


54  KING   HENEY  IV.          [1567. 

Home  again.  Description  of  tae  prince. 

words  of  adieu.  Catharine  was  exceedingly  an- 
noyed at  their  escape,  but,  perceiving  that  it  was 
not  in  her  power  to  overtake  the  fugitives,  she 
submitted  with  as  good  a  grace  as  possible. 

Henry  found  himself  thus  again  among  his 
native  hills.  He  was  placed  under  the  tuition 
of  a  gentleman  who  had  a  high  appreciation  of 
all  that  was  poetic  and  beautiful.  Henry,  un- 
der his  guidance,  devoted  himself  with  great  de- 
light to  the  study  of  polite  literature,  and  gave 
free  wing  to  an  ennobled  imagination  as  he 
clambered  up  the  cliffs,  and  wandered  over  the 
ravines  familiar  to  the  days  of  his  childhood. 
His  personal  appearance  in  1567,  when  he  was 
thirteen  years  of  age,  is  thus  described  by  a 
Roman  Catholic  gentleman  who  was  accustom- 
ed to  meet  him  daily  in  the  court  of  Catharine. 

*'  We  have  here  the  young  Prince  of  Beam. 
One  can  not  help  acknowledging  that  he  is  a 
beautiful  creature.  At  the  age  of  thirteen  he 
displays  all  the  qualities  of  a  person  of  eighteen 
or  nineteen.  He  is  agreeable,  he  is  civil,  he  is 
obliging.  Others  might  say  that  as  yet  he  does 
not  know  what  he  is  ;  but,  for  my  part,  I,  who 
study  him  very  often,  can  assure  you  that  he 
does  know  perfectly  well.  He  demeans  him- 
self toward  all  the  world  with  so  easy  a  carriage, 


1567.]  CIVIL   WAR.  55 

Evil  effects  of  dissolute  society. 

that  people  crowd  round  wherever  he  is ;  and 
he  acts  so  nobly  in  every  thing,  that  one  sees 
clearly  that  he  is  a  great  prince.  He  enters  into 
conversation  as  a  highly-polished  man.  He 
speaks  always  to  the  purpose,  and  it  is  remark- 
ed that  he  is  very  well  informed.  I  shall  hate 
the  reformed  religion  all  my  life  for  having  car- 
ried off  from  us  so  worthy  a  person.  Without 
this  original  sin,  he  would  be  the  first  after  the 
king,  and  we  should  see  him,  in  a  short  time,  at 
the  head  of  the  armies.  He  gains  new  friends 
every  day.  He  insinuates  himself  into  all 
hearts  with  inconceivable  skill.  He  is  highly 
honored  by  the  men,  and  no  less  beloved  by  the 
ladies.  His  face  is  very  well  formed,  the  nose 
neither  too  large  nor  too  small.  His  eyes  are 
very  soft ;  his  skin  brown,  but  very  smooth ; 
and  his  whole  features  animated  with  such  un- 
common vivacity,  that,  if  he  does  not  make  prog- 
ress with  the  fair,  it  will  be  very  extraordinary." 
Henry  had  not  escaped  the  natural  influence 
of  the  dissolute  society  in  the  midst  of  which  he 
had  been  educated,  and  manifested,  on  his  first 
return  to  his  mother,  a  strong  passion  for  balls 
and  masquerades,  and  all  the  enervating  pleas- 
ures of  fashionable  life.  His  courtly  and  per- 
suasive manners  were  so  insinuating,  that,  with- 


56  KING   HENRY  IV.          [1567. 

Influence  of  Jeanne  d'Albret.  Catharine's  deity. 

out  difficulty,  he  borrowed  any  sums  of  money 
lie  pleased,  and  with  these  borrowed  treasures 
he  fed  his  passion  for  excitement  at  the  gaming- 
table. 

The  firm  principles  and  high  intellectual  ele- 
vation of  his  mother  roused  her  to  the  immedi- 
ate and  vigorous  endeavor  to  correct  all  these 
radical  defects  in  his  character  and  education. 
She  kept  him,  as  much  as  possible,  under  her 
own  eye.  She  appointed  teachers  of  the  high- 
est mental  and  moral  attainments  to  instruct 
him.  By  her  conversation  and  example  she  im- 
pressed upon  his  mind  the  sentiment  that  it  was 
the  most  distinguished  honor  of  one  born  to 
command  others  to  be  their  superior  in  intelli- 
gence, judgment,  and  self-control.  The  Prince 
of  Navarre,  in  his  mother's  court  at  Beam,  found 
himself  surrounded  by  Protestant  friends  and 
influences,  and  he  could  not  but  feel  and  admit 
the  superior  dignity  and  purity  of  these  his  new 
friends. 

Catharine  worshiped  no  deity  but  ambition. 
She  was  ready  to  adopt  any  measures  and  to 
plunge  into  any  crimes  which  would  give  sta- 
bility and  lustre  to  her  power.  She  had  no  re- 
ligious opinions  or  even  preferences.  She  es- 
poused the  cause  of  the  Catholics  because,  on 


1567.]  CIVIL   WAR.  57 

Principle  of  Jeanne  d'Al'oret. 

the  whole,  she  deemed  that  party  the  more  pow- 
erful ;  and  then  she  sought  the  entire  destruc- 
tion of  the  Protestants,  that  none  might  be  left 
to  dispute  her  sway.  Had  the  Protestants  been 
in  the  majority,  she  would,  with  equal  zeal,  have 
given  them  the  aid  of  her  strong  arm,  and  unre- 
lentingly would  have  striven  to  crush  the  whole 
papal  power. 

Jeanne  d'Albret,  on  the  contrary,  was  in  prin- 
ciple a  Protestant.  She  was  a  woman  of  re- 
flection, of  feeling,  of  highly-cultivated  intellect, 
and  probably  of  sincere  piety.  She  had  read, 
with  deep  interest,  the  religious  controversies  of 
the  day.  She  had  prayed  for  light  and  guid- 
ance. She  had  finally  and  cordially  adopted 
the  Protestant  faith  as  the  truth  of  God.  Thus 
guided  by  her  sense  of  duty,  she  was  exceed- 
ingly anxious  that  her  son  should  be  a  Protest- 
ant— a  Protestant  Christian.  In  most  solemn 
prayer  she  dedicated  him  to  God's  service,  to 
defend  the  faith  of  the  Reformers.  In  the  dark- 
ness of  that  day,  the  bloody  and  cruel  sword 
was  almost  universally  recognized  as  the  great 
champion  of  truth.  Both  parties  appeared  to 
think  that  the  thunders  of  artillery  and  musket- 
ry must  accompany  the  persuasive  influence  of 
eloquence.  If  it  were  deemed  important  that 


58  KING   HENRY   IV.          [1567. 

The  cannon  the  missionary.  Devastation. 

one  hand  should  guide  the  pen  of  controversy, 
to  establish  the  truth,  it  was  considered  no 
less  important  that  the  other  should  wield  the 
sword  to  extirpate  heresy.  Military  heroism 
was  thought  as  essential  as  scholarship  for  the 
defense  of  the  faith. 

A  truly  liberal  mind  will  find  its  indignation, 
in  view  of  the  atrocities  of  these  religious  wars, 
mitigated  by  comparison  in  view  of  the  igno- 
rance and  the  frailty  of  man.  The  Protestants 
often  needlessly  exasperated  the  Catholics  by 
demolishing,  in  the  hour  of  victory,  their  church- 
es, their  paintings,  and  their  statues,  and  by 
pouring  contempt  upon  all  that  was  most  hal- 
lowed in  the  Catholic  heart.  There  was,  how- 
ever, this  marked  difference  between  the  two 
parties :  the  leaders  of  the  Protestants,  as  a 
general  rule,  did  every  tiling  in  their  power  to 
check  the  fury  of  their  less  enlightened  follow- 
ers. The  leaders  of  the  Catholics,  as  a  general 
rule,  did  every  thing  in  their  power  to  stimulate 
the  fanaticism  of  the  frenzied  populace.  In  the 
first  religious  war  the  Protestant  soldiers  broke 
open  and  plundered  the  great  church  of  Orleans. 
The  Prince  of  Conde  and  Admiral  Coligni  has- 
tened to  repress  the  disorder.  The  prince  point- 
ed a  musket  at  a  soldier  who  had  ascended  a 


1568.]  CIVIL   WAK.  59 

Indecision  of  the  prince.  Argumtnts  pro  and  con. 

ladder  to  break  an  image,  threatening  to  shoot 
him  if  he  did  not  immediately  desist. 

"  My  lord"  exclaimed  the  fanatic  Protestant, 
"wait  till  I  have  thrown  down  this  idol,  and 
then,  if  it  please  you,  I  will  die." 

It  is  well  for  man  that  Omniscience  presides 
at  the  day  of  judgment.  "  The  Lord  knoweth 
our  frame ;  he  remembereth  that  we  are  dust." 

Europe  was  manifestly  preparing  for  anoth- 
er dreadful  religious  conflict.  The  foreboding 
cloud  blackened  the  skies.  The  young  Prince 
of  Navarre  had  not  yet  taken  his  side.  Both 
Catholics  and  Protestants  left  no  exertions  un- 
tried to  win  to  their  cause  so  important  an  aux- 
iliary. Henry  had  warm  friends  in  the  court 
of  Navarre  and  in  the  court  of  St.  Cloud.  He 
was  bound  by  many  ties  to  both  Catholics  and 
Protestants.  Love  of  pleasure,  of  self-indul- 
gence, of  power,  urged  him  to  cast  in  his  lot 
with  the  Catholics.  Reverence  for  his  mother 
inclined  him  to  adopt  the  weaker  party,  who 
were  struggling  for  purity  of  morals  and  of  faith. 
To  be  popular  with  his  subjects  in  his  own  king- 
dom of  Navarre,  he  must  be  a  Protestant.  To 
*be  popular  in  France,  to  whose  throne  he  was 
already  casting  a  wistful  eye,  it  was  necessary 
for  him  to  be  a  Catholic.  He  vacillated  between 


60  KING   HENRY   IV.          [1568. 

Chances  of  a  crown.  War  again. 

these  views  of  self-interest.  His  conscience  and 
his  heart  were  untouched.  Both  parties  were 
aware  of  the  magnitude  of  the  weight  he  could 
place  in  either  scale,  while  each  deemed  it  quite 
uncertain  which  cause  he  would  espouse.  His 
father  had  died  contending  for  the  Catholic  faith, 
and  all  knew  that  the  throne  of  Catholic  France 
was  one  of  the  prizes  which  the  young  Prince 
of  Navarre  had  a  fair  chance  of  obtaining.  His 
mother  was  the  most  illustrious  leader  of  the 
Protestant  forces* on  the  Continent,  and  the 
crown  of  Henry's  hereditary  domain  could  not 
repose  quietly  upon  any  brow  but  that  of  a  Prot- 
estant. 

Such  was  the  state  of  affairs  when  the  clangor 
of  arms  again  burst  upon  the  ear  of  Europe. 
France  was  the  arena  of  woe  upon  which  the 
Catholics  and  the  Protestants  of  England  and 
of  the  Continent  hurled  themselves  against  each 
other.  Catharine,  breathing  vengeance,  headed 
the  Catholic  armies.  Jeanne,  calm  yet  inflex- 
ible, was  recognized  as  at  the  head  of  the  Prot- 
estant leaders,  and  was  alike  the  idol  of  the 
common  soldiers  and  of  their  generals.  The 
two  contending  armies,  after  various  marchings 
and  countermarchings,  met  at  Rochelle.  The 
whole  country  around,  for  many  leagues,  was  ii- 


1568.J  CIVIL  WAR.  61 

Arrival  of  the  Queen  of  Navarre. 

laminated  at  night  by  the  camp-fires  of  the  hos- 
tile hosts.  The  Protestants,  inferior  in  num- 
bers, with  hymns  and  prayers  calmly  awaited 
an  attack.  The  Catholics,  divided  in  council, 
were  fearful  of  hazarding  a  decisive  engagement. 
Day  after  day  thus  passed,  with  occasional  skir- 
mishes, when,  one  sunny  morning,  the  sound  of 
trumpets  was  heard,  and  the  gleam  of  the  spears 
and  banners  of  an  approaching  host  wras  seen 
on  the  distant  hills.  The  joyful  tidings  spread 
through  the  ranks  of  the  Protestants  that  the 
Queen  of  Navarre,  with  her  son  and  four  thou- 
sand troops,  had  arrived.  At  the  head  of  her 
iirm  and  almost  invincible  band  she  rode,  calm 
and  serene,  magnificently  mounted,  with  her 
proud  boy  by  her  side.  As  the  queen  and  her 
son  entered  the  plain,  an  exultant  shout  from 
the  whole  Protestant  host  seemed  to  rend  the 
skies.  These  enthusiastic  plaudits,  loud,  long, 
reiterated,  sent  dismay  to  the  hearts  of  the  Cath- 
olics. 

Jeanne  presented  her  son  to  the  Protestant 
army,  and  solemnly  dedicated  him  to  the  de- 
fense of  the  Protestant  faith.  At  the  same  time 
she  published  a  declaration  to  the  world  that 
she  deplored  the  horrors  of  war ;  that  she  was 
not  contending  for  the  oppression  of  others,  biU 


62  KING   HENRY  IV.          [1568. 

Education  of  the  prince.  The  1'rinco  of  Condi'1. 

to  secure  for  herself  and  her  friends  the  right  to 
worship  God  according  to  the  teachings  of  the 
Bible.  The  young  prince  was  placed  under  the 
charge  of  the  most  experienced  generals,  to  guard 
his  person  from  danger  and  to  instruct  him  in 
military  science.  The  Prince  of  Conde  was  his 
teacher  in  that  terrible  accomplishment  in  which 
both  master  and  pupil  have  obtained  such  world- 
wide renown. 

Long  files  of  English  troops,  with  trumpet 
tones,  and  waving  banners,  and  heavy  artillery, 
were  seen  winding  their  way  along  the  streams 
of  France,  hastening  to  the  scene  of  conflict. 
The  heavy  battalions  of  the  Pope  were  mar- 
shaling upon  all  the  sunny  plains  of  Italy,  and 
the  banners  of  the  rushing  squadrons  glittered 
from  the  pinnacles  of  the  Alps,  as  Europe  rose 
in  arms,  desolating  ten  thousand  homes  with 
conflagrations,  and  blood,  and  woe.  Could  the 
pen  record  the  smouldering  ruins,  the  desolate 
hearthstones,  the  shrieks  of  mortal  agony,  the 
wailings  of  the  widow,  the  cry  of  the  orphan, 
which  thus  resulted  from  man's  inhumanity  to 
man,  the  heart  would  sicken  at  the  recital.  The 
summer  passed  away  in  marches  and  counter- 
marches, in  assassinations,  and  skirmishes,  and 
battles.  The  fields  of  the  husbandmen  were 


1568.]  CIVIL   WAR.  63 

Slaughter  of  the  Protestants.  The  battle. 

trampled  under  the  hoofs  of  horses.  Villages 
were  burned  to  the  ground,  and  their  Avretched 
inhabitants  driven  out  in  nakedness  and  starv- 
ation to  meet  the  storms  of  merciless  winter. 
Noble  ladies  and  refined  and  beautiful  maidens 
fled  shrieking  from  the  pursuit  of  brutal  and  li' 
centious  sbldiers.  Still  neither  party  gained 
any  decisive  victory.  The  storms  of  winter 
came,  and  beat  heavily,  with  frost  and  drifting 
snow,  upon  the  worn  and  weary  hosts. 

In  three  months  ten  thousand  Protestants  had 
perished.  At  Orleans  two  hundred  Protestants 
were  thrown  into  prison.  The  populace  set  the 
prison  on  fire,  and  they  were  all  consumed. 

At  length  the  Catholic  armies,  having  become 
far  more  numerous  than  the  Protestant,  ven- 
tured upon  a  general  engagement.  They  met 
upon  the  field  of  Jarnac.  The  battle  was  con- 
ducted by  the  Reformers  with  a  degree  of  fear- 
lessness bordering  on  desperation.  The  Prince 
ofConde  plunged  into  the  thickest  ranks  of  the 
enemy  with  his  unfurled  banner  bearing  the 
motto,  "  Danger  is  sweet  for  Christ  and  my 
country."  Just  as  he  commenced  his  desperate 
charge,  a  kick  from  a  wounded  horse  fractured 
his  leg  so  severely  that  the  fragments  of  the 
bone  protruded  through  his  boot.  Pointing  to 


64«  KING   HENRY   IV.          [1568. 

Courage  of  the  Prince  of  Condi-.  The  defeat. 

the  mangled  and  helpless  limb,  he  said  to  those 
around  him,  "Remember  the  state  in  which 
Louis  of  Bourbon  enters  the  fight  for  Christ 
and  his  country."  Immediately  sounding  the 
charge,  like  a  whirlwind  his  little  band  plunged 
into  the  midst  of  their  foes.  For  a  moment  the 
shock  was  irresistible,  and  the  assailed  fell  like 
grass  before  the  scythe  of  the  mower.  Soon, 
however,  the  undaunted  band  was  entirely  sur- 
rounded by  their  powerful  adversaries.  The 
Prince  of  Conde,  with  but  about  two  hundred 
and  fifty  men,  with  indomitable  determination 
sustained  himself  against  the  serried  ranks  of 
five  thousand  men  closing  up  around  him  on 
every  side.  This  was  the  last  earthly  conflict 
of  the  Prince  of  Conde.  With  his  leg  broken 
and  his  arm  'nearly  severed  from  his  body,  his 
horse  fell  dead  beneath  him,  and  the  prince,  del- 
uged with  blood,  was  precipitated  into  the  dust 
under  the  trampling  hoof's  of  wounded  and  fran- 
tic chargers.  His  men  still  fought  with  des- 
peration around  their  wounded  chieftain.  Of 
twenty-five  nephews  who  accompanied  him,  fif- 
teen were  slain  by  his  side.  Soon  all  his  de- 
fenders were  cut  down  or  dispersed.  The 
wounded  prince,  an  invaluable  prize,  was  taken 
prisoner.  Montesquieu,  captain  of  the  guards 


1568. J  CIVIL    WAR.  60- 

Death  of  the  Prince  of  Conde.  Retreat  of  the  Protestants. 

of  the  Duke  of  Anjou,  came  driving  up,  and'as 
lie  saw  the  prisoner  attracting  much  attention, 
besmeared  with  blood  and  dirt, 

"  Whom  have  we  here  ?"  he  inquired. 

"  The  Prince  of  Conde,"  was  the  exultant  re- 

piy* 

"Kill  him!  kill  him!"  exclaimed  the  cap- 
tain, and  he  discharged  a  pistol  at  his  head. 

The  ball  passed  through  his  brain,  and  the 
prince  fell  lifeless  upon  the  ground.  The  corpse 
was  left  where  it  fell,  and  the  Catholic  troops 
pursued  their  foes,  now  flying  in  every  direc- 
tion. The  Protestants  retreated  across  a  river, 
blew  up  the  bridge,  and  protected  themselves 
from  farther  assault.  The  next  day  the  Duke 
of  Anjou,  the  younger  brother  of  Charles  IX., 
and  who  afterward  became  Henry  III.,  who  was 
one  of  the  leaders  of  the  Catholic  army,  rode 
over  the  field  of  battle,  to  find,  if  possible,  the 
body  of  his  illustrious  enemy. 

"  We  had  not  rode  far,"  says  one  who  accom- 
panied him,  "  when  we  perceived  a  great  num- 
ber of  the  dead  bodies  piled  up  in  a  heap,  which 
led  us  to  judge  that  this  was  the  spot  where  the 
body  of  the  prince  was  to  be  found  :  in  fact,  we 
found  it  there.  Baron  de  Magnac  took  the 
corpse  by  the  hair  to  lift  up  the  face,  which  was 
13—5 


66  KING   HENRY   IV.          [1568. 

Fiendish  barbarity.  Advice  ef  the  Pope. 

turned  toward  the  ground,  and  asked  me  if  I 
recognized  him ;  but,  as  one  eye  was  torn  out, 
and  his  face  was  covered  with  blood  and  dirt,  I 
could  only  reply  that  it  was  certainly  his  height 
and  his  complexion,  but  farther  I  could  not  say." 

They  washed  the  bloody  and  mangled  face, 
and  found  that  it  was  indeed  the  prince.  His 
body  was  carried,  with  infamous  ribaldry,  on  an 
ass  to  the  castle  of  Jarnac,  and  thrown  contempt- 
uously upon  the  ground.  Several  illustrious 
prisoners  were  brought  to  the  spot  and  butcher- 
ed in  cold  blood,  and  their  corpses  thrown  upon 
that  of  the  prince,  while  the  soldiers  passed  a 
night  of  drunkenness  and  revelry,  exulting  over 
the  remains  of  their  dead  enemies. 

Such  was  the  terrible  battle  of  Jarnac,  the 
first  conflict  which  Henry  witnessed.  The  tid- 
ings of  this  great  victory  and  of  the  death  of 
the  illustrious  Conde  excited  transports  of  joy 
among  the  Catholics.  Charles  IX.  sent  to  Pope 
Pius  V.  the  standards  taken  from  the  Protest- 
ants. The  Pope,  who  affirmed  that  Luther  was 
a  ravenous  beast,  and  that  his  doctrines  were 
the  sum  of  all  crimes,  wrote  to  the  king  a  letter 
of  congratulation.  He  urged  him  to  extirpate 
every  fibre  of  heresy,  regardless  of  all  entreaty, 
and  of  everv  tie  of  blood  and  affection.  To  en- 


1568.]  CIVIL   WAR.  6> 

Incitement  to  massacre.  The  protectorate. 

courage  him,  he  cited  the  example  of  Saul  ex- 
terminating the  Amalekites,  and  assured  him 
that  all  tendency  to  clemency  was  a  snare  of 
the  devil. 

The  Catholics  now  considered  the  condition 
of  the  Protestants  as  desperate.  The  pulpits 
resounded  with  imprecations  and  anathemas. 
The  Catholic  priests  earnestly  advocated  the 
sentiment  that  no  faith  was  to  be  kept  with  her- 
etics ;  that  to  massacre  them  was  an  action  es- 
sential to  the  safety  of  the  state,  and  which  would 
secure  the  approbation  of  God. 

But  the  Protestants,  though  defeated,  were 
still  unsubdued.  The  noble  Admiral  Coligni 
still  remained  to  them ;  and  after  the  disaster, 
Jeanne  d'Albret  presented  herself  before  the 
troops,  holding  her  son  Henry,  then  fourteen 
years  of  age,  by  one  hand,  and  Henry,  son  of 
the  Prince  de  Conde,  by  the  other,  and  devoted 
them  both  to  the  cause.  The  young  Henry  of 
Navarre  was  then  proclaimed  generalissimo  of 
the  army  and  protector  of  the  churches.  He- 
took  the  following  oath :  "I  swear  to  defend 
the  Protestant  religion,  and  to  persevere  in  the 
common  cause,  till  death  or  till  victory  has  se- 
cured for  all  the  liberty  which  we  desire." 


•68  KING   HENRY   IV.          [1568. 

''.motions  of  Henry.  His  military  sagacity. 


CHAPTER  III. 
THE   MARRIAGE. 

YOUNG  Henry  of  Navarre  was  but  about 
fourteen  years  of  age  when,  from  one  of  the 
hills  in  the  vicinity,  he  looked  upon  the  terrible 
battle  of  Jarnac.  It  is  reported  that,  young  as 
he  was,  he  pointed  out  the  fatal  errors  which 
were  committed  by  the  Protestants  in  all  the 
arrangements  which  preceded  the  battle. 

"It  is  folly,"  he  said,  "to  think  of  fighting, 
with  forces  so  divided,  a  united  army  making 
an  attack  at  one  point." 

For  the  security  of  his  person,  deemed  so  pre- 
cious to  the  Protestants,  his  friends,  notwith- 
standing his  entreaties  and  even  tears,  would 
not  allow  him  to  expose  himself  to  any  of  the 
perils  of  the  conflict.  As  he  stood  upon  an  em- 
inence which  overlooked  the  field  of  battle,  sur- 
rounded by  a  few  faithful  guards,  he  gazed  with 
intense  anguish  upon  the  sanguinary  scene 
spread  out  before  him.  He  saw  his  friends  ut- 
terly defeated,  and  their  squadrons  trampled  in 
the  dust  beneath  the  hoofs  of  the  Catholic  cav- 
alry. 


1568.]  THE  MARRIAGE.  Cft 


Enthusiasm  inspired  by  Jeanne. 


The  Protestants,  without  loss  of  time, Rallied 
anew  their  forces.  The  Queen  of  Navarre  soon 
saw  thousands  of  strong  arms  and  brave  hearts 
collecting  again  around  her  banner.  Accompa- 
nied by  her  son,  she  rode  through  their  ranks, 
and  addressed  them  in  words  of  feminine  yet 
heroic  eloquence,  which  roused  their  utmost  en- 
thusiasm. But  few  instances  have  been  record- 
ed in  which  human  hearts  have  been  more  deep- 
ly moved  than  were  these  martial  hosts  by  the 
brief  sentences  which  dropped  from  the  lips  of 
this  extraordinary  woman.  Henry,  in  the  most 
solemn  manner,  pledged  himself  to  consecrate 
all  his  energies  to  the  defense  of  the  Protestant 
religion.  To  each  of  the  chiefs  of  the  army  the 
queen  also  presented  a  gold  medal,  suspended 
from  a  golden  chain,  with  her  own  name  and 
that  of  her  son  impressed  upon  one  side,  and  on 
the  other  the  words  "  Certain  peace,  complete 
victory,  or  honorable  death."  The  enthusiasm 
of  the  army  was  raised  to  the  highest  pitch,  and 
the  heroic  queen  became  the  object  almost  of 
the  adoration  of  her  soldiers. 

Catharine,  seeing  the  wonderful  enthusiasm 
with  which  the  Protestant  troops  were  inspired 
by  the  presence  of  the  Queen  of  Navarre,  visit- 
ed the  head-quarters  of  her  own  army,  hoping. 


70  KING   HENRY   IV.          [1569. 

The  failure  of  Catharine.  Tin-  second  defeat. 

that  s*he  might  also  enkindle  similar  ardor.  Ac- 
companied by  a  magnificent  retinue  of  her  brill- 
iantly-accoutred generals,  she  swept,  like  a  gor- 
geous vision,  before  her  troops.  She  lavished 
presents  upon  her  officers,  and  in  high-sounding 
phrase  harangued  the  soldiers ;  but  there  was 
not  a  private  in  the  ranks  who  did  not  know 
that  she  was  a  wicked  and  a  polluted  woman. 
She  had  talent,  but  no  soul.  All  her  efforts 
were  unavailing  to  evoke  one  single  electric 
spark  of  emotion.  She  had  sense  enough  to 
perceive  her  signal  failure  and  to  feel  its  morti- 
fication. No  one  either  loved  or  respected  Cath- 
arine. Thousands  hated  her,  yet,  conscious  of 
her  power,  either  courting  her  smiles  or  dread- 
ing her  frown,  they  often  bowed  before  her  in 
adulation. 

The  two  armies  were  soon  facing  each  other 
upon  the  field  of  battle.  It  was  the  third  of 
October,  1569.  More  than  fifty  thousand  com- 
batants met  upon  the  plains  of  Moncontour. 
All  generalship  seemed  to  be  ignored  as  the  ex- 
asperated adversaries  rushed  upon  each  other  in 
a  headlong  fight.  The  Protestants,  outnum- 
bered, were  awfully  defeated.  Out  of  twenty- 
five  thousand  combatants  whom  they  led  into 
the  field,  but  eight  thousand  could  be  rallied 


1569.]  THE   MAURI  AGE.  71 

The  wounded  friends.  The  reserve  force. 

around  their  retreating  banner  after  a  fight  of 
but  three  quarters  of  an  hour.  All  their  can- 
non, baggage,  and  munitions  of  war  were  lost. 
No  mercy  was  granted  to  the  vanquished. 

Coligni,  at  the  very  commencement  of  the 
battle,  was  struck  by  a  bullet  which  shattered 
his  jaw.  The  gushing  blood  under  his  helmet 
choked  him,  and  they  bore  him  upon  a  litter 
from  the  field.  As  they  were  -carrying  the 
wounded  admiral  along,  they  overtook  another 
litter  upon  which  was  stretched  L'Estrange,  the 
bosom  friend  of  the  admiral,  also  desperately 
wounded.  L'Estrange,  forgetting  himself,  gazed 
for  a  moment  with  tearful  eyes  upon  the  noble 
Coligni,  and  then  gently  said,  "It  is  sweet  to 
trust  in  God."  Coligni,  unable  to  speak,  could 
only  look  a  reply.  Thus  the  two  wounded 
friends  parted.  Coligni  afterward  remarked 
that  these  few  words  were  a  cordial  to  his  spir- 
it, inspiring  him  with  resolution  and  hope. 

Henry  of  Navarre,  and  his  cousin,  Henry  of 
Conde,  son  of  the  prince  who  fell  at  the  battle 
of  Jarnac,  from  a  neighboring  eminence  witness- 
ed this  scene  of  defeat  and  of  awful  carnage. 
The  admiral,  unwilling  to  expose  to  danger  lives 
so  precious  to  their  cause,  had  stationed  them 
there  with  a  reserve  of  four  thousand  men  un- 


72  KING  HENRY  IV.          [1569. 

Misfortunes  of  ColignL  His  letter. 

der  the  command  of  Louis  of  Nassau.  When 
Henry  saw  the  Protestants  giving  way,  he  im- 
plored Louis  that  they  should  hasten  with  the 
reserve  to  the  protection  of  their  friends ;  but 
Louis,  with  military  rigor,  awaited  the  com- 
mands of  the  admiral.  "  We  lose  our  advant- 
age, then,"  exclaimed  the  prince,  "and  conse- 
quently the  battle." 

The  most  a-wful  of  earthly  calamities  seemed 
now  to  fall  like  an  avalanche  upon  Coligni,  the 
noble  Huguenot  chieftain.  His  beloved  broth- 
er was  slain.  Bands  of  wretches  had  burned 
<lown  his  castle  and  laid  waste  his  estates.  The 
Parliament  of  Paris,  composed  of  zealous  Cath- 
olics, had  declared  him  guilty  of  high  treason, 
and  offered  fifty  thousand  crowns  to  whoever 
would  deliver  him  up,  dead  or  alive.  The  Pope 
declared  to  all  Europe  that  he  was  a  "  detesta- 
ble, infamous,  execrable  man,  if,  indeed,  he  even 
merited  the  name  of  man."  His  army  was  de- 
feated, his  friends  cut  to  pieces,  and  he  himself 
was  grievously  wounded,  and  was  lying  upon  a 
couch  in  great  anguish.  Under  these  circum- 
stances, thirteen  days  after  receiving  his  wound, 
he  thus  wrote  to  his  children : 

"  We  should  not  repose  on  earthly  posses- 
sions. Let  us  place  our  hope  beyond  the  earth, 


1569.J  THE  MARKIAGE.  73 

The  third  army.  The  tide  of  victory  changed, 

and  acquire  other  treasures  fhan  those  which  we 
see  with  our  eyes  and  touch  with  our  hands. 
We  must  follow  Jesus  our  leader,  who  has  gone 
before  us.  Men  have  ravished  us  of  what  they 
eould.  If  such  is  the  will  of  God,  we  shall  be 
happy  and  our  condition  good,  since  we  endure 
this  loss  from  no  wrong  you  have  done  those 
who  have  brought  it  to  you,  but  solely  for  the 
hate  they  have  borne  me  because  God  was 
pleased  to  direct  me  to  assist  his  Church.  For 
the  present,  it  is  enough  to  admonish  and  con- 
jure you,  in  the  name  of  God,  to  persevere  cour- 
ageously in  the  study  of  virtue." 

In  the  course  of  a  few  weeks  Coligni  rose 
from  his  bed,  and  the  Catholics  were  amazed  to 
find  him  at  the  head  of  a  third  army.  The  in- 
domitable Queen  of  Navarre,  with  the  calm  en- 
ergy which  ever  signalized  her  character,  had 
rallied  the  fugitives  around  her,  and  had  reani- 
mated their  waning  courage  by  her  own  invinci- 
ble spirit.  Nobles  and  peasants  from  all  the 
mountains  of  Beam,  and  from  every  province  in 
France,  thronged  to  the  Protestant  camp.  Con- 
flict after  conflict  ensued.  The  tide  of  victory 
now  turned  in  favor  of  the  Reformers.  Henry, 
absolutely  refusing  any  longer  to  retire  from  the 
perils  of  the  field,  engaged  with  the  utmost  cool- 


74  KING  HENRY  IV.          [1570. 

The  treaty  of  St.  Germaine-en-Laye. 

ness,  judgment,  and  yet  impetuosity  in  all  the 
toils  and  dangers  of  the  battle.  The  Protest- 
ant cause  gained  strength.  The  Catholics  were 
disheartened.  Even  Catharine  became  con- 
vinced that  the  extermination  of  the  Protest- 
ants by  force  was  no  longer  possible.  So  once 
more  they  offered  conditions  of  peace,  which 
were  promptly  accepted.  These  terms,  which 
were  signed  at  St.  Germaine-en-Laye  the  8th 
of  August,  1570,  were  more  favorable  than  the 
preceding.  The  Protestants  were  allowed  lib- 
erty of  worship  in  all  the  places  then  in  their 
possession.  They  were  also  allowed  public  wor- 
ship in  two  towns  in  each  province  of  the  king- 
dom. They  were  permitted  to  reside  any  where 
without  molestation,  and  were  declared  eligible 
to  any  public  office. 

Coligni,  mourning  over  the  untold  evils  and 
miseries  of  war,  with  alacrity  accepted  these  con- 
ditions. "  Sooner  than  fall  back  into  these  dis- 
turbances," said  he,  "  I  would  choose  to  die  a 
thousand  deaths,  and  be  dragged  through  the 
streets  of  Paris." 

The  queen,  however,  and  ner  advisers  were 
guilty  of  the  most  extreme  perfidy  in  this  truce. 
It  was  merely  their  object  to  induce  the  foreign 
troops  who  had  come  to  the  aid  of  the  allies  to 


1570.J  THE   MAEKIAGE.  75 

I'erfi'dy  of  Catharine.  Tho.  court  at  Rochelle. 

leave  the  kingdom,  that  they  might  then  ex- 
terminate the  Protestants  by  a  general  massa- 
cre. Catharine  decided  to  accomplish  by  the 
dagger  of  the  assassin  that  which  she  had  in 
vain  attempted  to  accomplish  on  the  field  of  bat- 
tle. This  peace  was  but  the  first  act  in  the 
awful  tragedy  of  St.  Bartholomew. 

Peace  being  thus  apparently  restored,  the 
young  Prince  of  Navarre  now  returned  to  his 
hereditary  domains  and  visited  its  various  prov- 
inces, where  he  was  received  with  the  most  live- 
ly demonstrations  of  affection.  Various  circum- 
stances, however,  indicated  to  the  Protestant 
leaders  that  some  mysterious  and  treacherous 
plot  was  forming- for  their  destruction.  The 
Protestant  gentlemen  absented  themselves,  con- 
sequently, from  the  court  of  Charles  IX.  The 
king  and  his  mother  were  mortified  by  these  ev- 
idences that  their  perfidy  was  suspected. 

Jeanne,  with  her  son,  after  visiting  her  sub- 
jects in  all  parts  of  her  own  dominions,  went  to 
Rochelle,  where  they  were  joined  by  many  of 
the  most  illustrious  of  their  friends.  Large 
numbers  gathered  around  them,  and  the  court 
of  the  Queen  of  Navarre  was  virtually  transfer- 
red to  that  place.  Thus  there  were  two  rival 
courts,  side  by  side,  in  the  same  kingdom.  Cath- 


7G  KING   HENRY   IV.          [1570, 


The  two  courts.  Marriage  of  Elizabeth. 

arine,  with  her  courtiers,  exhibited  boundless- 
luxury  and  voluptuousness  at  Paris.  Jeanne 
d'Albret,  at  Rochelle,  embellished  her  court  with 
all  that  was  noble  in  intellect,  elegant  in  man- 
ners, and  pure  in  morals.  Catharine  and  her 
submissive  son  Charles  IX.  left  nothing  untried 
to  lure  the  Protestants  into  a  false  security. 
Jeanne  scrupulously  requited  the  courtesies  she 
received  from  Catharine,  though  she  regarded 
with  much  suspicion  the  adulation  and  the  syco- 
phancy of  her  proud  hostess. 

The  young  King  of  France,  Charles  IX.,  who- 
was  of  about  the  same  age  with  Henry,  and  who- 
had  been  his  companion  and  playmate  in  child- 
hood, was  now  married  to  Elizabeth,  the  daugh- 
ter of  the  Emperor  Maximilian  II.  of  Austria. 
Their  nuptials  were  celebrated  with  all  the  os- 
tentatious pomp  which  the  luxury  of  the  times 
and  the  opulence  of  the  French  monarchy  could 
furnish.  In  these  rejoicings  the  courts  of  France 
and  Navarre  participated  with  the  semblance  of 
the  most  heartfelt  cordiality.  Protestants  and 
Catholics,  pretending  to  for-get  that  they  had 
recently  encountered  each  other  with  fiendlike 
fury  in  fields  of  blood,  mingled  gayly  in  these 
festivities,  and  vied  with  each  other  in  the  ex- 
change of  courtly  greetings  and  polished  natter- 


1571.]  THE  MAERIAGE.  77 

The  Princess  Marguerite.  Effects  of  the  connection. 

ies.  Catharine  and  Charles  IX.  lavished,  with 
the  utmost  profusion,  their  commendations  and 
attentions  upon  the  young  Prince  of  Navarre, 
and  left  no  arts  of  dissimulation  unessayed 
which  might  disarm  the  fears  and  win  the  con- 
fidence of  their  victims. 

The  queen  mother,  with  caressing  fondness, 
declared  that  Henry  must  be  her  son.  She 
would  confer  upon  him  Marguerite,  her  youngest 
daughter.  This  princess  had  now  become  a 
young  lady,  beautiful  in  the  extreme,  and  high- 
ly accomplished  in  all  those  graces  which  can 
kindle  the  fires  arid  feed  the  flames  of  passion  ; 
but  she  was  also  as  devoid  of  principle  as  any 
male  libertine  who  contaminated  by  his  pres- 
ence a  court  whose  very  atmosphere  was  cor- 
ruption. Many  persons  of  royal  blood  had  most 
earnestly  sought  the  hand  of  this  princess,  for 
an  alliance  with  the  royal  family  of  France  was 
an  honor  which  the  proudest  sovereigns  might 
«ovet.  Such  a  connection,  in  its  political  as- 
pects, was  every  thing  Henry  could  desire.  It 
would  vastly  augment  the  consideration  and  the 
power  of  the  young  prince,  and  would  bring  him 
a  long  step  nearer  to  the  throne  of  France.  The 
Protestants  were  all  intensely  interested  in  this 
anatch,  as  it  would  invest  one,  destined  soon  to 


78  KING   HENRY   IV.  [1571. 

A  n>yal  match.  RepOgftMM  of  Jeanne  cl'Albrct. 

become  tlieir  most  prominent  leader,  with  new 
ability  to  defend  their  rights  and  to  advocate 
their  cause.  It  is  a  singular  illustration  of  the 
hopeless  corruption  of  the  times,  that  the  noto- 
rious profligacy  of  Marguerite  seems  to  have 
been  considered,  even  by  Henry  himself,  as  no 
obstacle  to  the  union. 

A  royal  marriage  is  ordinarily  but  a  matter 
of  state  policy.  Upon  the  cold  and  icy  emi- 
nence of  kingly  life  the  flowers  of  sympathy  and 
affection  rarely  bloom.  Henry,  without  hesita- 
tion, acquiesced  in  the  expediency  of  this  nup- 
tial alliance.  He  regarded  it  as  manifestly  a 
very  politic  partnership,  and  did  not  concern 
himself  in  the  least  about  the  agreeable  or  dis- 
agreeable qualities  of  his  contemplated  spouse. 
He  had  no  idea  of  making  her  his  companion, 
much  less  his  friend.  She  was  to  be  merely 
his  wife. 

Jeanne  d'Albret,  however,  a  woman  of  sincere 
piety,  and  in  whose  bosom  all  noble  thoughts 
were  nurtured,  cherished  many  misgivings.  Her 
Protestant  principles  caused  her  to  shrink  from 
the  espousals  of  her  son  with  a  Roman  Catho- 
lic. Her  religious  scruples,  and  the  spotless 
purity  of  her  character,  aroused  the  most  lively 
emotions  of  repugnance  in  view  of  her  son's 


1571.]  THE   MARRIAGE.  79 

Objections  overcome.  Perjury  of  Chin  lea  IX. 

connection  with  one  who  had  not  even  the  mod- 
esty to  conceal  her  vices.  State  considerations, 
however,  finally  prevailed,  and  Jeanne,  waving 
her  objections,  consented  to  the  marriage.  She 
yielded,  however,  with  the  greatest  reluctance, 
to  the  unceasing  importunities  of  her  friends. 
They  urged  that  this  marriage  would  unite  the 
two  parties  in  a  solid  peace,  and  thus  protect 
the  Protestants  from  persecution,  and  rescue 
France  from  unutterable  woe.  Even  the  Ad- 
miral Coligni  was  deceived.  But  the  result 
proved,  in  this  case  as  in  every  other,  that  it  is 
never  safe  to  do  evil  that  good  may  come.  If 
any  fact  is  established  under  the  government  of 
God,  it  is  this. 

The  Queen  of  Navarre,  in  her  extreme  re- 
pugnance to  this  match,  remarked, 

"  I  would  choose  to  descend  to  the  condition 
of  the  poorest  damsel  in  France  rather  than  sac- 
rifice to  the  grandeur  of  my  family  my  own  soul 
and  that  of  my  son." 

With  consummate  perjury,  Charles  IX.  de- 
clared, "  I  give  my  sister  in  marriage,  not  only 
to  the  Prince  of  Navarre,  but,  as  it  were,  to  the 
whole  Protestant  party.  This  will  be  the  stron- 
gest and  closest  bond  for  the  maintenance  of 
peace  between  my  subjects,  and  a  sure  evidence 
of  my  good-will  toward  the  Protestants." 


80  KING   HENRY   IV.          [1571. 

Displays  of  friendship.  Indifference  of  Marguerittv 

Thus  influenced,  this  noble  woman  consent- 
ed to  the  union.  She  then  went  to  Blois  ta 
meet  Catharine  and  the  king.  They  received 
her  with  exuberant  displays  of  love.  The  fool- 
ish king  quite  overacted  his  part,  calling  her 
"his  great  aunt,  his  all,  his  best  beloved."  As 
the  Queen  of  Navarre  retired  for  the  night,. 
Charles  said  to  Catharine,  laughing, 

"  Well,  mother,  what  do  you  think  of  it  t 
Do  I  play  my  little  part  well  ?" 

"  Yes,"  said  Catharine,  encouragingly,  "  very 
well;  but  it  is  of  no  use  unless  it  continues." 

"Allow  me  to  go  on,"  said  the  king,  "and 
you  will  see  that  I  shall  ensnare  them." 

The  young  Princess  Marguerite,  heartless, 
proud,  and  petulant,  received  the  cold  addresses 
of  Henry  with  still  more  chilling  indifference. 
She  refused  to  make  even  the  slightest  conces- 
sions to  his  religious  views,  and,  though  she 
made  no  objection  to  the  decidedly  politic  part- 
nership, she  very  ostentatiously  displayed  her 
utter  disregard  for  Henry  and  his  friends.  The 
haughty  and  dissolute  beauty  was  piqued  by 
the  reluctance  which  Jeanne  had  manifested  to 

to 

an  alliance  which  Marguerite  thought  should 
have  been  regarded  as  the  very  highest  of  all 
earthly  honors.  Preparations  were,  however, 


1571.]  THE   MARKIAGE.  81 

Preparations  for  the  wedding.  Death  of  Jeanne. 

made  for  the  marriage  ceremony,  which  was  to 
be  performed  in  the  French  capital  with  unex- 
ampled splendor.  The  most  distinguished  gen- 
tlemen of  the  Protestant  party,  nobles,  states- 
men, warriors,  from  all  parts  of  the  realm,  were 
invited  to  the  metropolis,  to  add  lustre  to  the 
festivities  by  their  presence.  Many,  however, 
of  the  wisest  counselors  of  the  Queen  of  Na- 
varre, deeply  impressed  with  the  conviction  of 
the  utter  perfidy  of  Catharine,  and  apprehend-' 
ing  some  deep-laid  plot,  remonstrated  against 
the  acceptance  of  the  invitations,  presaging  that, 
"  if  the  wedding  were  celebrated  in  Paris,  the 
liveries  would  be  very  crimson." 

Jeanne,  solicited  by  the  most  pressing  letters 
from  Catharine  and  her  son  Charles  IX.,  and 
urged  by  her  courtiers,  who  were  eager  to  share 
the  renowned  pleasures  of  the  French  metropo- 
lis, proceeded  to  Paris.  She  had  hardly  enter- 
ed the  sumptuous  lodgings  provided  for  her  in 
the  court  of  Catharine,  when  she  was  seized 
with  a  violent  fever,  which  raged  in  her  veins 
nine  days,  and  then  she  died.  In  death  she 
manifested  the  same  faith  and  fortitude  which 
had  embellished  her  life.  Not  a  murmur  or  a 
groan  escaped  her  lips  in  the  most  violent  par- 
oxysms of  pain.  She  had  no  desire  to  live  ex- 
13—6 


82  KING   HENRY   IV.          [1572. 

Demonstrations  of  grief.  Different  reports. 

cept  from  maternal  solicitude  for  her  children, 
Henry  and  Catharine. 

"But  God,"  said  she,  "will  be  their  father 
and  protector,  as  he  has  been  mine  in  my  great- 
est afflictions.  I  contide  them  to  his  provi- 
dence." 

She  died  in  June,  1572,  in  the  forty-fourth 
year  of  her  age.  Catharine  exhibited  the  most 
ostentatious  and  extravagant  demonstrations  of 
grief.  Charles  gave  utterance  to  loud  and 
poignant  lamentations,  and  ordered  a  surgeon  to 
examine  the  body,  that  the  cause  of  her  death 
might  be  ascertained.  Notwithstanding  these 
efforts  to  allay  suspicion,  the  report  spread  like 
wildfire  through  all  the  departments  of  France, 
and  all  the  Protestant  countries  of  Europe,  that 
the  queen  had  been  perfidiously  poisoned  by 
Catharine.  The  Protestant  writers  of  the  time 
assert  that  she  fell  a  victim  to  poison  communi- 
cated by  a  pair  of  perfumed  gloves.  The  Cath- 
olics as  confidently  affirm  that  she  died  of  a 
natural  disease.  The  truth  can  now  never  be 
known  till  the  secrets  of  all  hearts  shall  be  re- 
vealed at  the  judgment  day. 

Henry,  with  his  retinue,  was  slowly  travel- 
ing toward  Paris,  unconscious  of  his  mother's 
sickness,  when  the  unexpected  tidings  arrived 


THE   M  A  ii  11 1  A  G  E.  83 


The  King  of  Navarre.  Indifference. 

of  her  death.  It  is  difficult  to  imagine  what 
must  have  been  the  precise  nature  of  the  emo- 
tions of  an  ambitious  young  man  in  such  an 
event,  who  ardently  loved  both  his  mother  and 
the  crown  which  she  wore,  as  by  the  loss  of  the 
one  he  gained  the  other.  The  cloud  of  his  grief 
was  embellished  with  the  gilded  edgings  of  joy. 
The  Prince  of  Beam  now  assumed  the  title  and 
the  style  of  the  King  of  Navarre,  and  honored 
the  memory  of  his  noble  mother  with  every  man- 
ifestation  of  regret  and  veneration.  This  mel- 
ancholy event  caused  the  postponement  of  the 
marriage  ceremony  for  a  short  time,  as  it  was 
not  deemed  decorous  that  epithalamiums  should 
be  shouted  and  requiems  chanted  from  the 
same  lips  in  the  same  hour.  The  knell  tolling 
the  burial  of  the  dead  would  not  blend  harmo- 
niously with  the  joyous  peals  of  the  marriage 
bell.  Henry  was  not  at  all  annoyed  by  this  de- 
lay, for  no  impatient  ardor  urged  him  to  his 
nuptials.  Marguerite,  annoyed  by  the  opposi- 
tion which  Henry's  mother  had  expressed  in 
regard  to  the  alliance,  and  vexed  by  the  utter 
indifference  which  her  betrothed  manifested  to- 
ward her  person,  indulged  in  all  the  wayward 
humors  of  a  worse  than  spoiled  child.  She  stu- 
diously displayed  her  utter  disregard  for  Hen- 


84  KING   HENRY  IV.          [1572. 

Coligni  lured  to  Paris.  He  is  remonstrated  with. 

ry,  which  manifestations,  with  the  most  provok- 
ing indifference,  he  did  not  seem  even  to  notice. 

During  this  short  interval  the  Protestant  no- 
bles continued  to  flock  to  Paris,  that  they  might 
honor  with  their  presence  the  marriage  of  the 
young  chief.  The  Admiral  Coligni  was,  by 
very  special  exertions  on  the  part  of  Catharine 
and  Charles,  lured  to  the  metropolis.  He  had 
received  anonymous  letters  warning  him  of  his 
danger.  Many  of  his  more  prudent  friends 
openly  remonstrated  against  his  placing  himself 
in  the  power  of  the  perfidious  queen.  Coligni, 
however,  was  strongly  attached  to  Henry,  and, 
in  defiance  of  all  these  warnings,  he  resolved  to 
attend  his  nuptials.  "  I  confide,"  said  he,  "  in 
the  sacred  word  of  his  majesty." 

Upon  his  arrival  in  the  metropolis,  Catharine 
and  Charles  lavished  upon  him  the  most  un- 
bounded manifestations  of  regard.  The  king, 
embracing  the  admiral,  exclaimed,  "  This  is  the 
happiest  day  of  my  life."  Very  soon  one  of 
the  admiral's  friends  called  upon  him  to  take 
leave,  saying  that  he  was  immediately  about  to 
retire  into  the  country.  When  asked  by  the 
admiral  the  cause  of  his  unexpected  departure, 
he  replied,  "  I  go  because  they  caress  you  too 
much,  and  I  would  rather  save  myself  with  fools 
than  perish  with  sages." 


1572.]  THE   MARRIAGE.  Sh 


The  nuptial  day. 


At  length  the  nuptial  day  arrived.  It  was 
the  seventeenth  of  August,  1572.  Paris  had  laid 
aside  its  mourning  weeds,  and  a  gay  and  brill- 
iant carnival  succeeded  its  dismal  days  of 
gloom.  Protestants  and  Catholics,  of  highest 
name  and  note,  from  every  part  £>f  Europe,  who 
had  met  in  the  dreadful  encounters  of  a  hund- 
red fields  of  blood,  now  mingled  in  apparent 
fraternity  with  the  glittering  throng,  all  inter- 
changing smiles  and  congratulations.  The  un- 
impassioned  bridegroom  led  his  scornful  bride 
to  the  church  of  Notre  Dame.  Before  the  mass- 
ive portals  of  this  renowned  edifice,  and  under 
the  shadow  of  its  venerable  towers,  a  magnifi- 
cent platform  had  been  reared,  canopied  with 
the  most  gorgeous  tapestry.  Hundreds  of 
thousands  thronged  the  surrounding  amphithe- 
atre, swarming  at  the  windows,  crowding  the 
balconies,  and  clustered  upon  the  house-tops,  to 
witness  the  imposing  ceremony.  The  gentle 
breeze  breathing  over  the  multitude  was  laden 
with  the  perfume  of  flowers.  Banners,  and  pen- 
nants, and  ribbons  of  every  varied  hue  waved 
in  the  air,  or  hung  in  gay  festoons  from  window 
to  window,  and  from  roof  to  roof.  Upon  that 
conspicuous  platform,  in  the  presence  of  all  the 
highest  nobility  of  France,  and  of  the  most  il- 


86  KING   HENRY   IV.          [1572. 


Small  favors  gratefully  received. 


lustrious  representatives  of  every  court  of  Eu- 
rope, Henry  received  the  hand  of  the  haughty 
princess,  and  the  nuptial  oath  was  administered. 
Marguerite,  however,  even  in  that  hour,  and 
in  the  presence  of  all  those  spectators,  gave  a 
ludicrous  exhibition  of  her  girlish  petulance  and 
ungoverned  willfulness.  When,  in  the  progress 
of  the  ceremony,  she  was  asked  if  she  willingly 
received  Henry  of  Bourbon  for  her  husband,  she 
pouted,  coquettishly  tossed  her  proud  head,  and 
was  silent.  The  question  was  repeated.  The 
spirit  of  Marguerite  was  now  roused,  and  all  the 
powers  of  Europe  could  not  tame  the  shrew. 
She  fixed  her  eyes  defiantly  upon  the  officia- 
ting bishop,  and  refusing,  by  look,  or  word,  or 
gesture,  to  express  the  slightest  assent,  remain- 
ed as  immovable  as  a  statue.  Embarrassment 
and  delay  ensued.  Her  royal  brother,  Charles 
IX.,  fully  aware  of  his  sister's  indomitable  res- 
olution, coolly  walked  up  to  the  termagant  at 
bay,  and  placing  one  hand  upon  her  chest  and 
the  other  upon  the  back  of  her  head,  compelled 
an  involuntary  nod.  The  bishop  smiled  and 
bowed,  and  acting  upon  the  principle  that  small 
favors  were  gratefully  received,  proceeded  with 
the  ceremony.  Such  were  the  vows  with  which 
Henry  and  Marguerite  were  united.  Such  is 
too  often  love  in  the  f 


1572.]  THE   MARRIAGE.  89 


National  festivities. 


The  Roman  Catholic  wife,  unaccompanied  by 
her  Protestant  husband,  who  waited  at  the  door 
with  his  retinue,  now  entered  the  church  of  No- 
tre Dame  to  participate  in  the  solemnities  of  the 
mass.  The  young  King  of  Navarre  then  sub- 
missively received  his  bride  and  conducted  her 
to  a  very  magnificent  dinner.  Catharine  and 
Charles  IX.,  at  this  entertainment,  were  very 
specially  attentive  to  the  Protestant  nobles. 
The  weak  and  despicable  king  leaned  affection- 
ately upon  the  arm  of  the  Admiral  Coligni,  and 
for  a  long  time  conversed  with  him  with  every 
appearance  of  friendship  and  esteem.  Balls,  il- 
luminations, and  pageants  ensued  in  the  even- 
ing. For  many  days  these  unnatural  and  chill- 
ing nuptials  were  celebrated  with  all  the  splen- 
dor of  national  festivities.  Among  these  enter- 
tainments there  was  a  tournament,  singularly 
characteristic  of  the  times,  and  which  certainly 
sheds  peculiar  lustre  either  upon  the  humility 
or  upon  the  good-nature  of  the  Protestants. 

A  large  area  was  prepared  for  the  display  of 
one  of  those  barbaric  passes  of  arms  in  which 
the  rude  chivalry  of  that  day  delighted.  The 
inclosure  was  surrounded  by  all  the  polished  in- 
tellect, r»nk,  and  beauty  of  France.  Charles 
IX.,  with  his  two  brothers  and  several  of  the 


90  KING   HENRY    IV.  [1572. 

The  tournament.  Strange  representations. 

Catholic  nobility,  then  appeared  upon  one  side 
of  the  arena  on  noble  war-horses  gorgeously  ca- 
parisoned, and  threw  down  the  gauntlet  of  de- 
fiance to  Henry  of  Navarre  and  his  Protestant 
retinue,  who,  similarly  mounted  and  accoutred, 
awaited  the  challenge  upon  the  opposite  side. 

The  portion  of  the  inclosure  in  which  the 
Catholics  appeared  was  decorated  to  represent 
heaven.  Birds  of  Paradise  displayed  their  gor- 
geous plumage,  and  the  air  was  vocal  with  the 
melody  of  trilling  songsters.  Beauty  displayed 
its  charms  arrayed  in  celestial  robes,  and  am- 
brosial odors  lulled  the  senses  in  luxurious  in- 
dulgence. All  the  resources  of  wealth  and  art 
were  lavished  to  create  a  vision  of  the  home  of 
the  blessed. 

The  Protestants,  in  the  opposite  extreme  of 
the  arena,  were  seen  emerging  from  the  desola- 
tion, the  gloom,  and  the  sulphurous  canopy  of 
hell.  The  two  parties,  from  their  antagonistic 
realms,  rushed  to  the  encounter,  the  fiends  of 
darkness  battling  with  the  angels  of  light. 
Gradually  the  Catholics,  in  accordance  with  pre- 
vious arrangements,  drove  back  the  Protestants 
toward  their  grim  abodes,  when  suddenly  nu- 
merous demons  appeared  rushing  from  the  dun- 
geons of  the  infernal  regions,  who,  with  cloven 


1572.]  THE   MARRIAGE.  91 

Kegal  courtesy.  Impediments  to  departure. 

hoofs,  and  satanic  weapons,  and  chains  forged 
in  penal  fires,  seized  upon  the  Protestants  and 
dragged  them  to  the  blackness  of  darkness  from 
whence  they  had  emerged.  Plaudits  loud  and 
long  greeted  this  discomfiture  of  the  Protestants 
by  the  infernal  powers. 

But  suddenly  the  scene  is  changed.  A  wing- 
ed Cupid  appears,  the  representative  of  the  pi- 
ous and  amiable  bride  Marguerite.  The  demons 
fly  in  dismay  before  the  irresistible  boy.  Fear- 
lessly this  emissary  of  love  penetrates  the  realms 
of  despair.  The  Protestants,  by  this  agency, 
are  liberated  from  their  thralldom,  and  conduct- 
ed in  triumph  to  the  Elysium  of  the  Catholics. 
A  more  curious  display  of  regal  courtesy  histo- 
ry has  not  recorded.  And  this  was  in  Paris ! 

Immediately  after  the  marriage,  the  Admiral 
Coligni  was  anxious  to  obtain  permission  to 
leave  the  city.  His  devout  spirit  found  no  en- 
joyment in  the  gayeties  of  the  metropolis,  and 
he  was  deeply  disgusted  with  the  unveiled  li- 
centiousness which  he  witnessed  every  where 
around  him.  Day  after  day,  however,  impedi- 
ments were  placed  in  the  way  of  his  departure, 
and  it  was  not  until  three  days  after  the  mar- 
riage festivities  that  he  succeeded  in  obtaining 
an  audience  with  Charles.  He  accompanied 


92  KING   HENRY   IV.          [1572. 

Mission  from  the  Pope.  The  reply. 

Charles  to  the  racket-court,  where  the  young 
monarch  was  accustomed  to  spend  much  of  his 
time,  and  there  bidding  him  adieu,  left  him  to 
his  amusements,  and  took  his  way  on  foot  to- 
ward his  lodgings. 

The  Pope,  not  aware  of  the  treachery  which 
was  contemplated,  was  much  displeased  in  view 
of  the  apparently  friendly  relations  which  had 
thus  suddenly  sprung  up  between  the  Catholics 
and  the  Protestants.  He  was  exceedingly  per- 
plexed by  the  marriage,  and  at  last  sent  a  legate 
to  expostulate  with  the  French  king.  Charles 
IX.  was  exceedingly  embarrassed  how  to  frame 
a  reply.  He  wished  to  convince  the  legate  of 
his  entire  devotion  to  the  Papal  Church,  and, 
at  the  same  time,  he  did  not  dare  to  betray  his 
intentions  ;  for  the  detection  of  the  conspiracy 
would  not  only  frustrate  all  his  plans,  but  would 
load  him  with  ignominy,  and  vastly  augment 
the  power  of  his  enemies. 

"I  do  devoutly  wish,"  Charles  replied,  "that 
I  could  tell  you  all ;  but  you  and  the  Pope 
shall  soon  know  how  beneficial  this  marriage 
shall  prove  to  the  interests  of  religion.  Take 
my  word  for  it,  in  a  little  time  the  holy  father 
shall  have  reason  to  praise  my  designs,  my  pi- 
ety, and  my  zeal  in  behalf  of  the  faith.': 


1572.]  PREPARATIONS.  93 

The  attempted  assassination  of  Ooligni.  Escape  of  the  assassin. 


CHAPTER   IV. 
PREPARATIONS   FOR  MASSACRE. 

AS  the  Admiral  Coligni  was  quietly  passing- 
through  the  streets  from  his  interview 
with  Charles  at  the  Louvre  to  his  residence,  in 
preparation  for  his  departure,  accompanied  by 
twelve  or  fifteen  of  his  personal  friends,  a  letter 
was  placed  in  his  hands.  He  opened  it,  and 
began  to  read  as  he  walked  slowly  along.  Just 
as  he  was  turning  a  corner  of  the  street,  a  mus- 
ket was  discharged  from  the  window  of  an  ad- 
joining house,  and  two  balls  struck  him.  One 
cut  off  a  finger  of  his  right  hand,  and  the  other 
entered  his  left  arm.  The  admiral,  inured  to 
scenes  of  danger,  manifested  not  the  slightest 
agitation  or  alarm.  He  calmly  pointed  out  to 
his  friends  the  house  from  which  the  gun  had 
been  discharged,  and  his  attendants  rushed  for- 
ward and  broke  open  the  door.  The  assassin, 
however,  escaped  through  a  back  window,  and, 
mounting  a  fleet  horse  stationed  there,  and 
which  was  subsequently  proved  to  have  belong- 
ed to  a  nephew  of  the  king,  avoided  arrest.  It 


94  KING  HENRY   IV.          [1572. 

Christian  submission  of  Coligni.  Arrival  of  Henry. 

was  clearly  proved  in  the  investigations  which 
immediately  ensued  that  the  assassin  was  in 
connivance  with  some  of  the  most  prominent 
Catholics  of  the  realm.  The  Duke  of  Guise 
and  Catharine  were  clearly  implicated. 

Messengers  were  immediately  dispatched  to 
inform  the  king  of  the  crime  which  had  been 
perpetrated.  Charles  was  still  playing  in  the 
tennis-court.  Casting  away  his  racket,  he  ex- 
claimed, with  every  appearance  of  indignation, 
44  Shall  I  never  be  at  peace?" 

The  wounded  admiral  was  conveyed  to  his 
lodgings.  The  surgeons  of  the  court,  the  min- 
isters of  the  Protestant  Church,  and  the  most 
illustrious  princes  and  nobles  of  the  admiral's 
party  hastened  to  the  couch  of  the  sufferer. 
Henry  of  Navarre  was  one  of  the  first  that  ar- 
rived, and  he  was  deeply  moved  as  he  bent  over 
his  revered  and  much-loved  friend.  The  intrep- 
id and  noble  old  man  seemed  perfectly  calm  and 
composed,  reposing  unfailing  trust  in  God. 

44  My  friends,"  said  he,  "  why  do  you  weep  ? 
For  myself,  I  deem  it  an  honor  to  have  received 
these  wounds  for  the  name  of  God.  Pray  him 
to  strengthen  me." 

Henry  proceeded  from  the  bedside  of  the  ad- 
miral to  the  Louvre.  He  found  Charles  and 


1572.]  PEEPARATIONS.  95 

Indignation  of  Henry.  Artifice  of  Catharine  and  Charles. 

Catharine  there,  surrounded  by  many  of  the  no- 
Lies  of  their  court.  In  indignant  terms  Henry 
reproached  both  mother  and  son  with  the  atroc- 
ity of  the  crime  which  had  been  committed,  and 
demanded  immediate  permission  to  retire  from 
Paris,  asserting  that  neither  he  nor  his  friends 
could  any  longer  remain  in  the  capital  in  safe- 
ty. The  king  and  his  mother  vied  with  each 
other  in  noisy,  voluble,  and  even  blasphemous 
declarations  of  their  utter  abhorrence  of  the 
deed  ;  but  all  the  oaths  of  Charles  and  all  the 
vociferations  of  Catharine  did  but  strengthen 
the  conviction  of  the  Protestants  that  they  both 
were  implicated,  in  this  plot  of  assassination. 
Catharine  and  Charles,  feigning  the  deepest  in- 
terest in  the  fate  of  their  wounded  guest,  hasten- 
ed to  his  sick-chamber  with  every  possible  as- 
surance of  their  distress  and  sympathy.  Charles 
expressed  the  utmost  indignation  at  the  mur- 
derous attempt,  and  declared,  with  those  oatlis 
which  are  common  to  vulgar  minds,  that  he 
would  take  the  most  terrible  vengeance  upon 
the  perpetrators  as  soon  as  he  could  discover 
them. 

"To  discover  them  can  not  be  difficult,"  cool- 
ly replied  the  admiral. 

Henry  of  Navarre,  overwhelmed  with  indig- 


96  KING   HENRY  IV.          [1572. 

Perplexity  of  the  Protestants.  Secret  preparations. 

nation  and  sorrow,  was  greatly  alarmed  in  view 
of  the  toils  in  which  he  found  himself  and  his 
friends  hopelessly  involved.  The  Protestants, 
who  had  been  thus  lured  to  Paris,  unarmed  and 
helpless,  were  panic-stricken  by  these  indica- 
tions of  relentless  perfidy.  They  immediately 
made  preparations  to  escape  from  the  city.  Hen- 
ry, bewildered  by  rumors  of  plots  and  perils, 
hesitated  whether  to  retire  from  the  capital  with 
his  friends  in  a  body,  taking  the  admiral  with 
them,  or  more  secretly  to  endeavor  to  effect  an 
escape. 

But  Catharine  and  Charles,  the  moment  for 
action  having  not  quite  arrived,  were  unwearied 
in  their  exertions  to  allay  this  excitement  and 
soothe  these  alarms.  They  became  renewedly 
clamorous  in  their  expressions  of  grief  and  in- 
dignation in  view  of  the  assault  upon  the  ad- 
miral. The  king  placed  a  strong  guard  around 
the  house  where  the  wounded  nobleman  lay,  os- 
tensibly for  the  purpose  of  protecting  him  from 
any  popular  outbreak,  but  in  reality,  as  it  sub- 
sequently appeared,  to  guard  against  his  escape 
through  the  intervention  of  his  friends.  He 
also,  with  consummate  perfidy,  urged  the  Prot- 
estants in  the  city  to  occupy  quarters  near  to- 
gether, that,  in  case  of  trouble,  they  might  more 


1572.]  PREPARATIONS.  97 

Feeble  condition  of  the  Protestants. 

easily  be  protected  by  him,  and  might  more  ef- 
fectually aid  one  another.  His  real  object,  how- 
ever, was  to  assemble  them  in  more  convenient 
proximity  for  the  slaughter  to  which  they  were 
doomed.  The  Protestants  were  in  the  deepest 
perplexity.  They  were  not  sure  but  that  all 
their  apprehensions  were  groundless ;  and  yet 
they  knew  not  but  that  in  the  next  hour  some 
fearful  battery  would  be  unmasked  for  their  de- 
struction. They  were  unarmed,  unorganized, 
and  unable  to  make  any  preparation  to  meet  an 
unknown  danger.  Catharine,  whose  depraved 
yet  imperious  spirit  was  guiding  with  such  con- 
summate duplicity  all  this  enginery  of  intrigue, 
hourly  administered  the  stimulus  of  her  own 
stern  will  to  sustain  the  faltering  purpose  of  her 
equally  depraved  but  fickle-minded  and  imbe- 
cile son. 

Some  circumstances  seem  to  indicate  that 
Charles  was  not  an  accomplice  with  his  mother 
in  the  attempt  upon  the  life  of  the  admiral.  She 
said  to  her  son,  "Notwithstanding  all  your  prot- 
estations, the  deed  will  certainly  be  laid  to  your 
charge.  Civil  war  will  again  be  enkindled.  The 
chiefs  of  the  Protestants  are  now  all  in  Paris. 
You  had  better  gain  the  victory  at  once  here 
than  incur  the  hazard  of  a  new  campaign." 
13—7 


98  KING   HENRY   IV.          [1572. 

The  visit.  The  secret  council. 

"Well, then, "said  Charles, petulantly,  "since 
you  approve  the  murder  of  the  admiral,  I  am 
content.  But  let  all  the  Huguenots  also  fall, 
that  there  may  not  be  one  left  to  reproach  me." 

It  was  on  Friday,  the  22d  of  August,  that  the 
bullets  of  the  assassin  wounded  Coligni.  The 
next  day  Henry  called  again,  with  his  bride,  to 
visit  his  friend,  whose  finger  had  been  amputated, 
and  who  was  suffering  extreme  pain  from  the 
wound  in  his  arm.  Marguerite  had  but  few 
sympathies  with  the  scenes  which  are  to  be  wit- 
nessed in  the  chamber  of  sickness.  She  did 
not  conceal  her  impatience,  but,  after  a  few  com- 
monplace phrases  of  condolence  with  her  hus- 
band's bosom  friend,  she  hastened  away,  leaving 
Henry  to  perform  alone  the  offices  of  friendly 
sympathy. 

While  the  young  King  of  Navarre  was  thus 
sitting  at  the  bedside  of  the  admiral,  recounting 
to  him  the  assurances  of  faith  and  honor  given 
by  Catharine  and  her  son,  the  question  was  then 
under  discussion,  in  secret  council,  at  the  pal- 
ace, by  this  very  Catharine  and  Charles,  wheth- 
er Henry,  the  husband  of  the  daughter  of  the 
one  and  of  the  sister  of  the  other,  should  be  in- 
cluded with  the  rest  of  the  Protestants  in  the 
massacre  which  they  were  plotting.  Charles 


1572.]  PREPARATIONS.  99 


Preparations  to  arm  the  citizens. 


manifested  some  reluctance  thus  treacherously 
to  take  the  life  of  his  early  playmate  arid  friend, 
his  brother-in-law,  and  his  invited  guest.  It 
was,  after  much  deliberation,  decided  to  protect 
him  from  the  general  slaughter  to  which  his 
friends  were  destined. 

The  king  sent  for  some  of  the  leading  officers 
of  his  troops,  and  commanded  them  immediate- 
ly, but  secretly,  to  send  his  agents  through  ev- 
ery section  of  the  city,  to  arm  the  Roman  Cath- 
olic citizens,  and  assemble  them,  at  midnight, 
in  front  of  the  Hotel  de  Ville. 

The  energetic  Duke  of  Guise,  who  had  ac- 
quired much  notoriety  by  the  sanguinary  spirit 
with  which  he  had  persecuted  the  Protestants, 
was  to  take  the  lead  of  the  carnage.  To  pre- 
vent mistakes  in  the  confusion  of  the  night,  he 
had  issued  secret  orders  for  all  the  Catholics 
"  to  wear  a  white  cross  on  the  hat,  and  to  bind 
a  piece  of  white  cloth  around  the  arm."  In  the 
darkest  hour  of  the  night,  when  all  the  senti- 
nels of  vigilance  and  all  the  powers  of  resist- 
ance should  be  most  effectually  disarmed  by 
sleep,  the  alarm-bell,  from  the  tower  of  the  Pal- 
ace of  Justice,  was  to  toll  the  signal  for  the  in- 
discriminate massacre  of  the  Protestants.  The 
bullet  and  the  dagger  were  to  be  every  where 


100  KING   HENRY   IV.          [1572. 

Directions  for  the  massacre.  Signals. 

employed,  and  men,  women,  and  children  were 
to  be  cut  down  without  mercy.  With  a  very 
few  individual  exceptions,  none  were  to  be  left 
to  avenge  the  deed.  Large  bodies  of  troops, 
who  hated  the  Protestants  with  that  implacable 
bitterness  which  the  most  sanguinary  wars  of 
many  years  had  engendered,  had  been  called 
into  the  city,  and  they,  familiar  with  deeds  of 
blood,  were  to  commence  the  slaughter.  All 
good  citizens  were  enjoined,  as  they  loved  their 
Savior,  to  aid  in  the  extermination  of  the  ene- 
mies of  the  Church  of  Rome.  Thus,  it  was 
declared,  God  would  be  glorified  and  the  best 
interests  of  man  promoted.  The  spirit  of  the 
age  was  in  harmony  with  the  act,  and  it  can 
not  be  doubted  that  there  were  those  who  had 
been  so  instructed  by  their  spiritual  guides  that 
they  truly  believed  that  by  this  sacrifice  they 
were  doing  God  service. 

The  conspiracy  extended  throughout  all  the 
provinces  of  France.  The  storm  was  to  burst, 
at  the  same  moment,  upon  the  unsuspecting  vic- 
tims in  every  city  and  village  of  the  kingdom. 
Beacon-fires,  with  their  lurid  midnight  glare, 
were  to  flash  the  tidings  from  mountain  to 
mountain.  The  peal  of  alarm  was  to  ring  along 
from  steeple  to  steeple,  from  city  to  hamlet,  from 


1572.]  PREPARATIONS.  101 

Feast  at  the  Louvre.  Embarrassment  of  Henry. 

valley  to  hillside,  till  the  whole  Catholic  popu- 
lation should  be  aroused  to  obliterate  every  ves- 
tige of  Protestantism  from  the  land. 

While  Catharine  and  Charles  were  arranging 
all  the  details  of  this  deed  of  infamy,  even  to 
the  very  last  moment  they  maintained  with  the 
Protestants  the  appearance  of  the  most  cordial 
friendship.  They  lavished  caresses  upon  the 
Protestant  generals  and  nobles.  The  very  day 
preceding  the  night  when  the  massacre  com- 
menced, the  king  entertained,  at  a  sumptuous 
feast  in  the  Louvre,  many  of  the  most  illustri- 
ous of  the  doomed  guests.  Many  of  the  Prot- 
estant nobles  were  that  night,  by  the  most  press- 
ing invitations,  detained  in  the  palace  to  sleep. 
Charles  appeared  in  a  glow  of  amiable  spirits, 
and  amused  them,  till  a  late  hour,  with  his  pleas- 
antries. 

Henry  of  Navarre,  however,  had  his  suspi- 
cions very  strongly  aroused.  Though  he  did 
not  and  could  not  imagine  any  thing  so  dread- 
ful as  a  general  massacre,  he  clearly  foresaw 
that  preparations  were  making  for  some  very 
extraordinary  event.  The  entire  depravity  of 
both  Catharine  and  Charles  he  fully  understood. 
But  he  knew  not  where  the  blow  would  fall,  and 
he  was  extremely  perplexed  in  deciding  as  to 


102  KING   HENRY   IV.          [1572. 

Tlie  Duke  of  Lorraine.  His  hatred  toward  the  Protestants. 

the  course  he  ought  to  pursue.  The  apartments 
assigned  to  him  and  his  bride  were  in  the  pal- 
ace of  the  Louvre.  It  would  be  so  manifestly 
for  his  worldly  interest  for  him  to  unite  with 
the  Catholic  party,  especially  when  he  should 
see  the  Protestant  cause  hopelessly  ruined,  that 
the  mother  and  the  brother  of  his  wife  had  hes- 
itatingly concluded  that  it  would  be  safe  to  spare 
his  life.  Many  of  the  most  conspicuous  mem- 
bers of  the  court  of  Navarre  lodged  also  in  the 
capacious  palace,  in  chambers  contiguous  to 
those  which  were  occupied  by  their  sovereign. 
Marguerite's  oldest  sister  had  married  the 
Duke  of  Lorraine,  and  her  son,  the  Duke  of 
Guise,  an  energetic,  ambitious,  unprincipled 
profligate,  was  one  of  the  most  active  agents  in 
this  conspiracy.  His  illustrious  rank,  his  near 
relationship  with  the  king — rendering  it  not  im- 
probable that  he  might  yet  inherit  the  throne — 
his  restless  activity,  and  his  implacable  hatred 
of  the  Protestants,  gave  him  the  most  promi- 
nent position  as  the  leader  of  the  Catholic  par- 
ty. He  had  often  encountered  the  Admiral  Co- 
ligni  upon  fields  of  battle,  where  all  the  malig- 
nity of  the  human  heart  had  been  aroused,  and 
he  had  often  been  compelled  to  fly  before  the 
strong  arm  of  his  powerful  adversary.  He  felt 


1572.J  PREPARATIONS.  103- 

The  assassin's  revenge.  Anxiety  of  the  Duchess  of  Lorraine. 

that  now  the  hour  of  revenge  had  come,  and 
with  an  assassin's  despicable  heart  he  thirsted 
for  the  blood  of  his  noble  foe.  It  was  one  of 
his  paid  agents  who  fired  upon  the  admiral  from 
the  window,  and,  mounted  upon  one  of  the  fleet- 
est chargers  of  the  Duke  of  Guise,  the  wretch 
made  his  escape. 

The  conspiracy  had  been  kept  a  profound  se- 
cret from  Marguerite,  lest  she  should  divulge  it 
to  her  husband.  The  Duchess  of  Lorraine, 
however,  was  in  all  their  deliberations,  and,  fully 
aware  of  the  dreadful  carnage  which  the  night 
was  to  witness,  she  began  to  feel,  as  the  hour  of 
midnight  approached,  very  considerable  anxiety 
in  reference  to  the  safety  of  her  sister.  Con- 
scious guilt  magnified  her  fears ;  and  she  was 
apprehensive  .lest  the  Protestants,  when  they 
should  first  awake  to  the  treachery  which  sur- 
rounded them,  would  rush  to  the  chamber  of 
their  king  to  protect  him,  and  would  wreak  their 
vengeance  upon  his  Catholic  spouse.  She  did 
not  dare  to  communicate  to  her  sister  the  cause 
of  her  alarm  ;  and  yet,  when  Marguerite,  about 
11  o'clock,  arose  to  retire,  she  importuned  her 
sister,  even  with  tears,  not  to  occupy  the  same 
apartment  with  her  husband  that  night,  but  to 
sleep  in  her  own  private  chamber.  Catharine 


104  KING  HENRY   IV.          [1572. 

Scene  in  Henry's  chamber.  Rumors  of  trouble. 

sharply  reproved  the  Duchess  of  Lorraine  for 
her  imprudent  remonstrances,  and  bidding  the 
Queen  of  Navarre  good-night,  with  maternal  au- 
thority directed  her  to  repair  to  the  room  of  her 
husband.  She  departed  to  the  nuptial  cham- 
ber, wondering  what  could  be  the  cause  of  such 
an  unwonted  display  of  sisterly  solicitude  and 
affection. 

When  she  entered  her  room,  to  her  great  sur- 
prise she  found  thirty  or  forty  gentlemen  as- 
sembled there.  They  were  the  friends  arid  the 
supporters  of  Henry,  who  had  become  alarmed 
by  the  mysterious  rumors  which  were  floating 
from  ear  to  ear,  and  by  the  signs  of  agitation, 
and  secrecy,  and  strange  preparation  which  ev- 
ery where  met  the  eye.  No  one  could  imagine 
what  danger  was  impending.  No  one  knew 
from  what  quarter  the  storm  would  burst.  But 
that  some  very  extraordinary  event  was  about 
to  transpire  was  evident  to  all.  It  was  too  late 
to  adopt  any  precautions  for  safety.  The  Prot- 
estants, unarmed,  unorganized,  and  widely  dis- 
persed, could  now  only  practice  the  virtue  of 
heroic  fortitude  in  meeting  their  doom,  whatever 
that  doom  might  be.  The  gentlemen  in  Hen- 
ry's chamber  did  not  venture  to  separate,  and 
not  an  eye  was  closed  in  sleep.  They  sat  to- 


1572.]  PREPARATIONS.  105 

Assembling  for  work.  Alarm  in  the  metropolis. 

gether  in  the  deepest  perplexity  and  consterna- 
tion, as  the  hours  of  the  night  lingered  slow- 
ly along,  anxiously  awaiting  the  developments 
with  which  the  moments  seemed  to  be  fraught. 
In  the  mean  time,  aided  by  the  gloom  of  a 
starless  night,  in  every  street  of  Paris  prepara- 
tions were  going  on  for  the  enormous  perpetra- 
tion. Soldiers  were  assembling  in  different 
places  of  rendezvous.  Guards  were  stationed 
at  important  points  in  the  city,  that  their  vic- 
tims might  not  escape.  Armed  citizens,  with 
loaded  muskets  and  sabres  gleaming  in  the  lamp- 
light, began  to  emerge,  through  the  darkness, 
from  their  dwellings,  and  to  gather,  in  motley 
and  interminable  assemblage,  around  the  Hotel 
de  Ville.  A  regiment  of  guards  were  stationed 
at  the  gates  of  the  royal  palace  to  protect  Charles 
and  Catharine  from  any  possibility  of  danger. 
Many  of  the  houses  were  illuminated,  that  by 
the  light  blazing  from  the  windows,  the  bullet 
might  be  thrown  with  precision,  and  that  the 
dagger  might  strike  an  unerring  blow.  Agita- 
tion and  alarm  pervaded  the  vast  metropolis. 
The  Catholics  were  rejoicing  that  the  hour  of 
vengeance  had  arrived.  The  Protestants  gazed 
upon  the  portentous  gatherings  of  this  storm  in 
utter  bewilderment. 


106  KING   HENRY  IV.          [1572, 

Inflexibility  of  Catharine.  The  faltering  of  Charles. 

All  the  arrangements  of  the  enterprise  were 
left  to  the  Duke  of  Guise,  and  a  more  efficient 
and  fitting  agent  could  not  have  been  found. 
He  had  ordered  that  the  tocsin,  the  signal  for 
the  massacre,  should  be  tolled  at  two  o'clock  in 
the  morning.  Catharine  and  Charles,  in  one  of 
the  apartments  of  the  palace  of  the  Louvre,  were 
impatiently  awaiting  the  lingering  flight  of  the 
hours  till  the  alarm-bell  should  toll  forth  the 
death-warrant  of  their  Protestant  subjects. 
Catharine,  inured  to  treachery  and  hardened  in 
vice,  was  apparently  a  stranger  to  all  compunc- 
tious visitings.  A  life  of  crime  had  steeled  her 
soul  against  every  merciful  impression.  But 
she  was  very  apprehensive  lest  her  Son,  less  ob- 
durate in  purpose,  might  relent.  Though  im- 
potent in  character,  he  was,  at  times,  petulant 
and  self-willed,  and  in  paroxysms  of  stubborn- 
ness spurned  his  mother's  counsels  and  exert- 
ed his  own  despotic  power. 

Charles  was  now  in  a  state  of  the  most  fever- 
ish excitement.  He  hastily  paced  the  room, 
peering  out  at  the  window,  and  almost  every 
moment  looking  at  his  watch,  wishing  that  the 
hour  would  come,  and  again  half  regretting  that 
the  plot  had  been  formed.  The  companions 
and  the  friends  of  his  childhood,  the  invited 


1572.]  PREPARATIONS.  107 

Nerved  for  the  work.  The  knell  of  death. 

guests  who,  for  many  weeks,  had  been  his  asso- 
ciates in  gay  festivities,  and  in  the  interchange 
of  all  kindly  words  and  deeds,  were,  at  his  com- 
mand, before  the  morning  should  dawn,  to  fall 
before  the  bullet  and  the  poniard  of  the  midnight 
murderer.  His  mother  witnessed  with  intense 
anxiety  this  wavering  of  his  mind.  She  there- 
fore urged  him  no  longer  to  delay,  but  to  antic- 
ipate the  hour,  and  to  send  a  servant  immedi- 
ately to  sound  the  alarm. 

Charles  hesitated,  while  a  cold  sweat  ran  from 
his  forehead.  "Are  you  a  coward ?" taunting- 
ly inquired  the  fiend-like  mother.  This  is  the 
charge  which  will  always  make  the  poltroon 
squirm.  The  young  king  nervously  exclaimed, 
"  Well,  then,  begin." 

There  were  in  the  chamber  at  the  time  only 
the  king,  his  mother,  and  his  brother  the  Duke 
of  Anjou.  A  messenger  was  immediately  dis- 
patched to  strike  the  bell.  It  was  two  hours 
after  midnight.  A  few  moments  of  terrible  sus- 
pense ensued.  There  was  a  dead  silence,  nei- 
ther of  the  three  uttering  a  word.  They  all 
stood  at  the  windows  looking  out  into  the  ray- 
less  night.  Suddenly,  through  the  still  air,  the 
ponderous  tones  of  the  alarm-bell  fell  upon  the 
ear,  and  rolled,  the  knell  of  death,  over  the  city. 


108  KING   HENRY   IV.          [1572. 


•  Vive  Dieu  et  le  roi !" 


Its  vibrations  awakened  the  demon  in  ten  thou- 
sand hearts.  It  was  the  morning  of  the  Sab- 
bath, August  24th,  1572.  It  was  the  anniver- 
sary of  a  festival  in  honor  of  St.  Bartholomew, 
which  had  long  been  celebrated.  At  the  sound 
of  the  tocsin,  the  signal  for  the  massacre,  armed 
men  rushed  from  every  door  into  the  streets, 
shouting,  "  Vive  Dieu  et  le  roi  /" — Live  God 
and  the  king  ! 


1574.1  THE   MASSACRE.  109 

« 

The  commencement  of  the  massacre. 


CHAPTER  V. 
MASSACRE   OF   ST.  BARTHOLOMEW. 

AS  the  solemn  dirge  from  the  steeple  rang 
out  upon  the  night  air,  the  king  stood  at 
the  window  of  the  palace  trembling  in  every 
nerve.  Hardly  had  the  first  tones  of  the  alarm- 
bell  fallen  upon  his  ear  when  the  report  of  a 
musket  was  heard,  and  the  first  victim  fell. 
The  sound  seemed  to  animate  to  frenzy  the  de- 
moniac Catharine,  while  it  almost  froze  the  blood 
in  the  veins  of  the  young  monarch,  and  he  pas- 
sionately called  out  for  the  massacre  to  be  stop- 
ped. It  was  too  late.  The  train  was  fired,  and 
could  not  be  extinguished.  The  signal  passed 
witli  the  rapidity  of  sound  from  steeple  to  stee- 
ple, till  not  only  Paris,  but  entire  France,  was 
roused.  The  roar  of  human  passion,  the  crack- 
ling fire  of  musketry,  and  the  shrieks  of  the 
wounded  and  the  dying,  rose  and  blended  in  one 
fearful  din  throughout  the  whole  metropolis. 
Guns,  pistols,  daggers,  were  every  where  busy. 
Old  men,  terrified  maidens,  helpless  infants,  ven- 
erable matrons,  were  alike  smitten,  and  mercy 


110  KING   HENRY   IV.          ^1572. 

The  house  forced.  Flight  of  the  sen-ants. 


had  no  appeal  which  could  touch  the  heart  of 
the  murderers. 

The  wounded  Admiral  Coligni  was  lying  help- 
less upon  his  bed,  surrounded  by  a  few  person- 
al friends,  as  the  uproar  of  the  rising  storm  of 
human  violence  and  rage  rolled  in  upon  their 
ears.  The  Duke  of  Guise,  with  three  hundred 
soldiers,  hastened  to  the  lodgings  of  the  admiral. 
The  gates  were  immediately  knocked  down,  and 
the  sentinels  stabbed.  A  servant,  greatly  ter- 
rified, rushed  into  the  inner  apartment  where 
the  wounded  admiral  was  lying,  and  exclaimed, 

"  The  house  is  forced,  and  there  is  no  means 
of  resisting." 

"I  have  long  since,"  said  the  admiral,  calm- 
ly, "prepared  myself  to  die.  Save  yourselves, 
my  friends,  if  you  can,  for  you  can  not  defend 
my  life.  I  commend  my  soul  to  the  mercy  of 
God." 

The  companions  of  the  admiral,  having  no 
possible  means  of  protection,  and  perhaps  add- 
ing to  his  peril  by  their  presence,  immediately 
fled  to  other  apartments  of  the  house.  They 
were  pursued  and  stabbed.  Three  leaped  from 
the  windows  and  were  shot  in  the  streets. 

Coligni,  left  alone  in  his  apartment,  rose  with 
difficulty  from  his  bed,  and,  being  unable  to 


1572.]  THE   MASSACRE.  Ill 


Death  of  Admiral  Coligni. 


stand,  leaned  for  support  against  the  wall.  A 
desperado  by  the  name  of  Breme,  a  follower  of 
the  Duke  of  Guise,  with  a  congenial  band  of 
accomplices,  rushed  into  the  room.  They  saw  a 
venerable  man,  pale,  and  with  bandaged  wounds, 
in  his  night-dress,  .engaged  in  prayer. 

"Art  thou  the  admiral?"  demanded  the  as- 
sassin, with  brandished  sword. 

"I  am,"  replied  the  admiral;  "and  thou, 
young  man,  shouldst  respect  my  gray  hairs. 
Nevertheless,  thou  canst  abridge  my  life  but  a 
little." 

Breme  plunged  his  sword  into  his  bosom,  and 
then  withdrawing  it,  gave  him  a  cut  upon  the 
head.  The  admiral  fell,  calmly  saying,  "If  I 
-could  but  die  by  the  hand  of  a  gentleman  in- 
stead of  such  a  knave  as  this !"  The  rest  of  the 
assassins  then  rushed  upon  him,  piercing  his 
body  with  their  daggers. 

The  Duke  of  Guise,  ashamed  himself  to  meet 
the  eye  of  this  noble  victim  to  the  basest  treach- 
ery, remained  impatiently  in  the  court -yard 
below. 

"Breme!"  he  shouted,  looking  up  at  the  win- 
dow, "  have  you  done  it?" 

"Yes,"  Breme  exclaimed  from  the  chamber, 
•"he  is  done  for." 


112  KING   HENRY   IV.          [1572. 

Brutality.  Fate  of  the  Duke  of  Guise. 

"  Let  us  see,  though,"  rejoined  the  duke. 
"  Throw  the  body  from  the  window." 

The  mangled  corpse  was  immediately  thrown 
down  upon  the  pavement  of  the  court-yard. 
The  duke,  with  his  handkerchief,  wiped  the 
blood  and  the  dirt  from  his  face,  and  carefully 
scrutinized  the  features. 

"Yes,"  said  he,  "I  recognize  him.  He  is 
the  man." 

Then  giving  the  pallid  cheek  a  kick,  he  ex- 
claimed, "  Courage,  comrades !  we  have  happily 
begun.  Let  us  now  go  for  others.  The  king 
commands  it." 

In  sixteen  years  from  this  event  the  Duke  of 
Guise  was  himself  assassinated,  and  received  a 
kick  in  the  face  from  Henry  III.,  brother  of  the 
same  king  in  whose  service  he  had  drawn  the 
dagger  of  the  murderer.  Thus  died  the  Admi- 
ral Coligni,  one  of  the  noblest  sons  of  France. 
Though  but  fifty-six  years  of  age,  he  was  pre- 
maturely infirm  from  care,  and  toil,  and  suf- 
fering. 

For  three  days  the  body  was  exposed  to  the 
insults  of  the  populace,  and  finally  was  hung  up 
by  the  feet  on  a  gibbet.  A  cousin  of  Coligni 
secretly  caused  it  to  be  taken  down  and  buried. 

The  tiger,  having  once  lapped  his  tongue  in 


1572.]  THE   MASSACRE.  113 

Excitement  of  the  Parisians.  Fiendish  spirit  of  Charles. 

blood,  seems  to  be  imbued  with  a  new  spirit  of 
ferocity.  There  is  in  man  a  similar  temper, 
which  is  roused  and  stimulated  by  carnage. 
The  excitement  of  human  slaughter  converts 
man  into  a  demon.  The  riotous  multitude  of 
Parisians  was  becoming  eacli  moment  more  and 
more  clamorous  for  blood.  They  broke  open 
the  houses  of  the  Protestants,  and,  rushing  into 
their  chambers,  murdered  indiscriminately  both 
sexes  and  every  age.  The  streets  resounded 
with  the  shouts  of  the  assassins  and  the  shrieks 
of  their  victims.  Cries  of  "  Kill !  kill !  more 
blood!"  rent  the  air.  The  bodies  of  the  slain 
were  thrown  out  of  the  windows  into  the  streets, 
and  the  pavements  of  the  city  were  clotted  with 
human  gore. 

Charles,  who  was  overwhelmed  with  such 
compunctions  of  conscience  when  he  heard  the 
first  shot,  and  beheld  from  his  window  the  com- 
mencement of  the  butchery,  soon  recovered  from 
his  momentary  wavering,  and,  conscious  that  it 
was  too  late  to  draw  back,  with  fiend-like  eager- 
ness engaged  himself  in  the  work  of  death.  The 
monarch,  when  a  boy,  had  been  noted  for  his 
sanguinary  spirit,  delighting  with  his  own  hand 
to  perform  the  revolting  acts  of  the  slaughter- 
house. Perfect  fury  seemed  now  to  take  pos- 
13—8 


114  KING   HENRY   IV.          [1572. 

Fugitives  butchered.  Terror  of  Marguerite. 

session  of  him.  His  cheeks  were  flushed,  his 
lips  compressed,  his  eyes  glared  with  frenzy. 
Bending  eagerly  from  his  window,  he  shouted 
words  of  encouragement  to  the  assassins.  Grasp- 
ing a  gun,  in  the  handling  of  which  lie  had  be- 
come very  skillful  from  long  practice  in  the 
chase,  he  watched,  like  a  sportsman,  for  his  prey; 
and  when  he  saw  an  unfortunate  Protestant, 
wounded  and  bleeding,  flying  from  his  pursuers, 
he  would  take  deliberate  aim  from  the  window 
of  his  palace,  and  shout  with  exultation  as  he 
saw  him  fall,  pierced  by  his  bullet.  A  crowd 
of  fugitives  rushed  into  the  court-yard  of  the 
Louvre  to  throw  themselves  upon  the  protection 
of  the  king.  Charles  sent  his  own  body-guard 
into  the  yard,  with  guns  and  daggers,  to  butcher 
them  all,  and  the  pavements  of  the  palace-yard 
were  drenched  with  their  blood. 

Just  before  the  carnage  commenced,  Marguer- 
ite, weary  with  excitement  and  the  agitating 
conversation  to  which  she  had  so  long  been  lis- 
tening, retired  to  her  private  apartment  for  sleep. 
She  had  hardly  closed  her  eyes  when  the  fear- 
ful outcries  of  the  pursuers  and  the  pursued  fill- 
ed the  palace.  She  sprang  up  in  her  bed,  and 
heard  some  one  struggling  at  the  door,  and 
shrieking  "Navarre!  Navarre!"  In  a  parox- 


1572.]  THE   MASSACRE.  117 

Flight  of  Marguerite.  Terrors  of  the  night. 

ysm  of  terror,  she  ordered  an  attendant  to  open 
the  door.  One  of  her  husband's  retinue  in- 
stantly rushed  in,  covered  with  wounds  and 
blood,  pursued  by  four  soldiers  of  her  brother's 
guard.  The  captain  of  the  guard  entered  at  the 
same  moment,  and,  at  the  earnest  entreaty  of 
the  princess,  spared  her  the  anguish  of  seeing 
the  friend  of  her  husband  murdered  before  her 
eyes. 

Marguerite,  half  delirious  with  bewilderment 
and  terror,  tied  from  her  room  to  seek  the  apart- 
ment of  her  sister.  The  palace  was  rilled  with 
uproar,  the  shouts  of  the  assassins  and  the 
shrieks  of  their  victims  blending  in  awful  con- 
fusion. As  she  was  rushing  through  the  hall, 
she  encountered  another  Protestant  gentleman 
flying  before  the  dripping  sword  of  his  pursuer. 
He  was  covered  with  blood,  flowing  from  the 
many  wounds  he  had  already  received.  Just 
as  he  reached  the  young  Queen  of  Navarre,  his 
pursuer  overtook  him  and  plunged  a  sword 
through  his  body.  He  fell  dead  at  her  feet. 

No  tongue  can  tell  the  horrors  of  that  night. 
It  would  require  volumes  to  record  the  frightful 
scenes  which  were  enacted  before  the  morning 
dawned.  Among  the  most  remarkable  escapes 
we  may  mention  that  of  a  lad  whose  name  aft- 


118  KING  HENRY   IV.          [1572. 


Remarkable  escape  of  Maximilian. 


erward  attained  much  celebrity.  The  Baron  de 
Rosny,  a  Protestant  lord  of  great  influence  and 
worth,  had  accompanied  his  son  Maximilian,  a 
very  intelligent  and  spirited  boy,  about  eleven 
years  of  age,  to  Paris,  to  attend  the  nuptials  of 
the  King  of  Navarre.  This  young  prince,  Max- 
imilian, afterward  the  world-renowned  Duke  of 
Sully,  had  previously  been  prosecuting  his  stud- 
ies in  the  College  of  Burgundy,  in  the  metropo- 
lis, and  had  become  a  very  great  favorite  of  the 
warm-hearted  King  of  Navarre.  His  father  had 
come  to  Paris  with  great  reluctance,  for  he  had 
no  confidence  in  the  protestations  of  Catharine 
and  Charles  IX.  Immediately  after  the  attempt 
was  made  to  assassinate  the  admiral,  the  Baron 
de  Rosny,  with  many  of  his  friends,  left  the  city, 
intrusting  his  son  to  the  care  of  a  private  tutor 
and  a  valet  de  chambre.  He  occupied  lodgings 
in  a  remote  quarter  of  the  city  and  near  the  col- 
leges. 

Young  Maximilian  was  asleep  in  his  room, 
when,  a  little  after  midnight,  he  was  aroused  by 
the  ringing  of  the  alarm-bells,  and  the  confused 
cries  of  the  populace.  His  tutor  and  valet  de 
chambre  sprang  from  their  beds,  and  hurried  out 
to  ascertain  the  cause  of  the  tumult.  They  did 
not,  however,  return,  for  they  had  hardly  reach- 


1572.]  THE   MASSACRE. 

Effort?  to  save  his  life.  The  disguise. 

ed  the  door  when  they  were  shot  down.  Max- 
imilian, in  great  bewilderment  respecting  their 
continued  absence,  and  the  dreadful  clamor  con- 
tinually increasing,  was  hurriedly  dressing  him- 
self, when  his  landlord  came  in,  pale  and  trem- 
bling, and  informed  him  of  the  massacre  which 
was  going  on,  and  that  he  had  saved  his  own 
life  only  by  the  avowal  of  his  faith  in  the  Cath- 
olic religion.  He  earnestly  urged  Maximilian 
to  do  the  same.  The  young  prince  magnani- 
mously resolved  not  to  save  his  life  by  false- 
hood and  apostasy.  He  determined  to  attempt, 
in  the  darkness  and  confusion  of  the  night,  to- 
gain  the  College  of  Burgundy,  where  he  hoped 
to  find  some  Catholic  friends  who  would  protect 
him. 

The  distance  of  the  college  from  the  house  in 
which  he  was  rendered  the  undertaking  desper- 
ately perilous.  Having  disguised  himself  in, 
the  dress  of  a  Roman  Catholic  priest,  he  took  a 
large  prayer-book  under  his  arm,  and  trembling- 
ly issued  forth  into  the  streets.  The  sights 
which  met  his  eye  in  the  gloom  of  that  awful 
night  were  enough  to  appal  the  stoutest  heart. 
The  murderers,  frantic  with  excitement  and  in- 
toxication, were  uttering  wild  outcries,  and  pur- 
suing, in  every  direction,  their  terrified  victims. 


120  KING   HENRY  IV.          [1572. 


Scene  in  the  street. 


Women  and  children,  in  their  night-clothes,  hav- 
ing just  sprung  in  terror  from  their  beds,  were 
flying  from  their  pursuers,  covered  with  wounds, 
and  uttering  fearful  shrieks.  The  mangled  bod- 
ies of  the  young  and  of  the  old,  of  males  and 
females,  were  strewn  along  the  streets,  and  the 
pavements  were  slippery  with  blood.  Loud  and 
dreadful  outcries  were  heard  from  the  interior 
of  the  dwellings  as  the  work  of  midnight  assas- 
sination proceeded  ;  and  struggles  of  desperate 
violence  were  witnessed,  as  the  murderers  at- 
tempted to  throw  their  bleeding  and  dying  vic- 
tims from  the  high  windows  of  chambers  and 
attics  upon  the  pavements  below.  The  shouts 
of  the  assailants,  the  shrieks  of  the  wounded,  as 
blow  after  blow  fell  upon  them,  the  incessant 
reports  of  muskets  and  pistols,  the  tramp  of  sol- 
diers, and  the  peals  of  the  alarm-bell,  all  com- 
bined to  create  a  scene  of  terror  such  as  human 
eyes  have  seldom  witnessed.  In  the  midst  of 
ten  thousand  perils,  the  young  man  crept  along, 
protected  by  his  priestly  garb,  while  he  frequent- 
ly saw  his  fellow-Christians  shot  and  stabbed 
at  his  very  side. 

Suddenly,  in  turning  a  corner,  he  fell  into  the 
midst  of  a  band  of  the  body-guard  of  the  king, 
whose  swords  were  dripping  with  blood.  They 


1572.]  THE  MASSACRE.  121 

The  talisman.  Arrival  at  the  college. 

seized  him  with  great  roughness,  when,  seeing 
the  Catholic  prayer-book  which  was  in  his 
hands,  they  considered  it  a  safe  passport,  and 
permitted  him  to  continue  on  his  way  uninjured. 
Twice  again  he  encountered  similar  peril,  as  he 
was  seized  by  bands  of  infuriated  men,  and  each 
time  he  was  extricated  in  the  same  way. 

At  length  he  arrived  at  the  College  of  Bur- 
gundy ;  and  now  his  danger  increased  tenfold. 
It  was  a  Catholic  college.  The  porter  at  the 
gate  absolutely  refused  him  admittance.  The 
murderers  began  to  multiply  in  the  street  around 
him  with  fierce  and  threatening  questions.  Max- 
imilian at  length,  by  inquiring  for  La  Faye,  the 
president  of  the  college,  and  by  placing  a  bribe 
in  the  hands  of  the  porter,  succeeded  in  obtain- 
ing entrance.  La  Faye  was  a  humane  man, 
and  exceedingly  attached  to  his  Protestant  pu- 
pil. Maximilian  entered  the  apartment  of  the 
president,  and  found  there  two  Catholic  priests. 
The  priests,  as  soon  as  they  saw  him,  insisted 
upon  cutting  him  down,  declaring  that  the  king 
had  commanded  that  not  even  the  infant  at  the 
breast  should  be  spared.  The  good  old  man, 
however,  firmly  resolved  to  protect  his  young 
friend,  and,  conducting  him  privately  to  a  secure 
chamber,  locked  him  up.  Here  he  remained 


122  KING   HENRY   IV.          [1572. 

His  protection.  Henry  taken  before  the  king. 

three  days  in  the  greatest  suspense,  apprehen- 
sive every  hour  that  the  assassins  would  break 
in  upon  him.  A  faithful  servant  of  the  presi- 
dent brought  him  food,  but  could  tell  him  of 
nothing  but  deeds  of  treachery  and  blood.  At 
the  end  of  three  days,  the  heroic  boy,  who  af- 
terward attained  great  celebrity  as  the  minis- 
ter and  bosom  friend  of  Henry,  was  released 
and  protected. 

The  morning  of  St.  Bartholomew's  day  had 
not  dawned  when  a  band  of  soldiers  entered  the 
chamber  of  Henry  of  Navarre  and  conveyed  him 
to  the  presence  of  the  king.  Frenzied  with  the 
excitements  of  the  scene,  the  imbecile  but  pas- 
sionate monarch  received  him  with  a  counte- 
nance inflamed  with  fury.  With  blasphemous 
oaths  and  imprecations,  he  commanded  the  King 
of  Navarre,  as  he  valued  his  life,  to  abandon  a 
religion  whicli  Charles  affirmed  that  the  Prot- 
estants had  assumed  only  as  a  cloak  for  their 
rebellion.  With  violent  gesticulations  and 
threats,  he  declared  that  he  would  no  longer 
submit  to  be  contradicted  by  his  subjects,  but 
that  they  should  revere  him  as  the  image  of 
God.  Henry,  who  was  a  Protestant  from  con- 
siderations of  state  policy  rather  than  from 
Christian  principle,  and  who  saw  in  the  conflict 


1572.]  THE  MASSACRE.  123 

He  yields.  Paris  on  the  Sabbath  following. 

merely  a  strife  between  two  political  parties, 
ingloriously  yielded  to  that  necessity  by  which 
alone  lie  could  save  his  life.  Charles  gave  him 
three  days  to  deliberate,  declaring,  with  a  vio- 
lent oath,  that  if,  at  the  end  of  that  time,  he  did 
not  yield  to  his  commands,  he  would  cause  him 
to  be  strangled.  Henry  yielded.  He  not  only 
went  to  ma.-s  himself,  but  submitted  to  the  deg- 
radation of  sending  an  edict  to  his  own  domin- 
ions, prohibiting  the  exercise  of  any  religion  ex- 
cept that  of  Rome.  This  indecision  was  a  se- 
rious blot  upon  his  character.  Energetic  and 
decisive  as  he  was  in  all  his  measures  of  gov- 
ernment, his  religious  convictions  were  ever  fee- 
ble and  wavering. 

When  the  darkness  of  night  passed  away  and 
the  morning  of  the  Sabbath  dawned  upon  Par- 
is, a  spectacle  was  witnessed  such  as  the  streets 
even  of  that  blood-renowned  metropolis  have 
seldom  presented.  The  city  still  resounded 
with  that  most  awful  of  all  tumults,  the  clamor 
of  an  infuriated  mob.  The  pavements  were 
covered  with  gory  corpses.  Men,  women,  and 
children  were  still  flying  in  every  direction, 
wounded  and  bleeding,  pursued  by  merciless 
assassins,  riotous  with  demoniac  laughter  and 
drunk  with  blood.  The  report  of  guns  and  pis- 


124  KING   HENRY   IV.          [1572. 

Encouragement  by  the  priests.  The  massacre  continued. 

tols  was  heard  in  all  parts  of  the  city,  sometimes 
in  continuous  volleys,  as  if  platoons  of  soldiers 
were  firing  upon  their  victims,  while  the  scat- 
tered shots,  incessantly  repeated  in  every  sec- 
tion of  the  extended  metropolis,  proved  the  uni- 
versality of  the  massacre.  Drunken  wretches, 
besmeared  with  blood,  were  swaggering  along 
the  streets,  with  ribald  jests  and  demoniac 
howlings,  hunting  for  the  Protestants.  Bodies, 
torn  and  gory,  were  hanging  from  the  windows, 
and  dissevered  heads  were  spurned  like  footballs 
along  the  pavements.  Priests  were  seen  in 
their  sacerdotal  robes,  with  elevated  crucifixes, 
and  with  fanatical  exclamations  encouraging 
the  murderers  not  to  grow  weary  in  their  holy 
work  of  exterminating  God's  enemies.  The 
most  distinguished  nobles  and  generals  of  the 
court  and  the  camp  of  Charles,  mounted  on 
horseback  with  gorgeous  retinue,  rode  through 
the  streets,  encouraging  by  voice  and  arm  the 
indiscriminate  massacre. 

"  Let  not,"  the  king  proclaimed,  "  one  single 
Protestant  be  spared  to  reproach  me  hereafter 
with  this  deed." 

For  a  whole  week  the  massacre  continued, 
and  it  was  computed  that  from  eighty  to  a  hund- 
red thousand  Protestants  were  slain  throughout 
the  kingdom. 


1572.J  THE   MASSACRE.  125 

Exultation  of  the  Catholics.  Triumphal  procession. 

Charles  himself,  with  Catharine  and  the  high- 
born but  profligate  ladies  who  disgraced  her 
court,  emerged  with  the  morning  light,  in  splen- 
did array,  into  the  reeking  streets.  The  ladies 
contemplated  with  merriment  and  ribald  jests 
the  dead  bodies  of  the  Protestants  piled  up  be- 
fore the  Louvre.  Some  of  the  retinue,  appalled 
by  the  horrid  spectacle,  wished  to  retire,  alleg- 
ing that  the  bodies  already  emitted  a  putrid 
odor.  Charles  inhumanly  replied,  "  The  smell 
of  a  dead  enemy  is  always  pleasant." 

On  Thursday,  after  four  days  spent  in  hunt- 
ing out  the  fugitives  and  finishing  the  bloody 
work,  the  clergy  paraded  the  streets  in  a  tri- 
umphal procession,  and  with  jubilant  prayers 
and  hymns  gave  thanks  to  God  for  their  great 
victory.  The  Catholic  pulpits  resounded  with 
exultant  harangues,  and  in  honor  of  the  event 
a  medallion  was  struck  off,  with  the  inscription 
"La  piete  a  reveille  la  justice" — Religion  has 
awakened  justice. 

In  the  distant  provinces  of  France  the  mas-- 
sacre  was  continued,  as  the  Protestants  were 
hunted  from  all  their  hiding-places.  In  some 
departments,  as  in  Santonge  and  Lower  Lan- 
guedoc,  the  Protestants  were  so  numerous  that 
the  Catholics  did  not  venture  to  attack  them. 


126  KING   HENRY  IV.          [1572. 


Extent  of  the  massacre. 


In  some  other  provinces  they  were  so  few  that 
the  Catholics  had  nothing  whatever  to  fear  from 
them,  and  therefore  spared  them  ;  and  in  the 
sparsely-settled  rural  districts  the  peasants  re- 
fused to  imbrue  their  hands  in  the  blood  of 
their  neighbors.  Many  thousand  Protestants 
throughout  the  kingdom  in  these  ways  escaped. 
But  in  nearly  all  the  populous  towns,  where 
the  Catholic  population  predominated,  the  mas- 
sacre was  universal  and  indiscriminate.  In 
Meaux,  four  hundred  houses  of  Protestants  were 
pillaged  and  devastated,  and  the  inmates,  with- 
out regard  to  age  or  sex,  utterly  exterminated. 
At  Orleans  there  were  three  thousand  Protest- 
ants. A  troop  of  armed  horsemen  rode  furi- 
ously through  the  streets,  shouting,  "  Courage, 
boys !  kill  all,  and  then  you  shall  divide  their 
property."  At  Rouen,  many  of  the  Protestants, 
at  the  first  alarm,  tied.  The  rest  were  arrested 
and  thrown  into  prison.  They  were  then  brought 
out  one  by  one,  and  deliberately  murdered.  Six 
hundred  were  thus  slain.  Such  were  the  scenes 
which  were  enacted  in  Toulouse,  Bordeaux, 
Bourges,  Angers,  Lyons,  and  scores  of  other  cit- 
ies in  France.  It  is  impossible  to  ascertain  with 
precision  the  number  of  victims.  The  Duke  of 
Sully  estimates  them  at  seventy  thousand ;  the 


1572.]  THE   MASSACKE.  127 


Magnanimity  of  Catholic  officers. 


Bishop  Perefixe  at  one  hundred  thousand.  This 
latter  estimate  is  probably  not  exaggerated,  if 
we  include  the  unhappy  fugitives,  who,  fleeing 
from  their  homes,  died  of  cold,  hunger,  and  fa- 
tigue, and  all  the  other  nameless  woes  which 
accrued  from  this  great  calamity. 

In  the  midst  of  these  scenes  of  horror  it  is 
pleasant  to  record  several  instances  of  generous 
humanity.  In  the  barbarism  of  those  times 
dueling  was  a  common  practice.  A  Catholic 
officer  by  the  name  of  Vessins,  one  of  the  most 
fierce  and  irritable  men  in  France,  had  a  private 
quarrel  with  a  Protestant  officer  whose  name 
was  Regnier.  They  had  mutually  sought  each 
other  in  Paris  to  obtain  such  satisfaction  as  a 
duel  could  afford.  In  the  midst  of  the  massa- 
cre, Regnier,  while  at  prayers  with  his  servant 
(for  in  those  days  dueling  and  praying  were  not 
deemed  inconsistent),  heard  the  door  of  his  room 
broken  open,  arid,  looking  round  in  expectation 
of  instant  death,  saw  his  foe  Vessins  enter 
breathless  with  excitement  and  haste.  Regnier, 
conscious  that  all  resistance  would  be  unavail- 
ing, calmly  bared  his  bosom  to  his  enemy,  ex- 
claiming, 

"You  will  have  an  easy  victory." 

Vessins  made  no  reply,  but  ordered  the  valet 


128  KING    HENRY   IV.          [1572. 


The  Bishop  of  Lisieux. 


to  seek  his  master's  cloak  and  sword.  Then 
leading  him  into  the  street,  he  mounted  him 
upon  a  powerful  horse,  and  with  fifteen  armed 
men  escorted  him  out  of  the  city.  Not  a  word 
was  exchanged  between  them.  When  they  ar- 
rived at  a  little  grove  at  a  short  distance  from 
the  residence  of  the  Protestant  gentleman,  Ves- 
siris  presented  him  with  his  sword,  and  bade 
him  dismount  and  defend  himself,  saying, 

"Do  not  imagine  that  I  seek  your  friend- 
ship by  what  I  have  done.  All  I  wish  is  to 
take  your  life  honorably." 

Regnier  threw  away  his  sword,  saying,  "  I 
will  never  strike  at  one  who  has  saved  my  life." 

"Very  well!"  Vessins  replied,  and  left  him, 
making  him  a  present  of  the  horse  on  which  he 
rode. 

Though  the  commands  which  the  king  sent 
to  the  various  provinces  of  France  for  the  mas- 
sacre were  very  generally  obeyed,  there  were 
examples  of  distinguished  virtue,  in  which  Cath- 
olics of  high  rank  not  only  refused  to  imbrue 
their  own  hands  in  blood,  but  periled  their  lives 
to  protect  the  Protestants.  The  Bishop  of 
Lisieux,  in  the  exercise  of  true  Christian  char- 
ity, saved  all  the  Protestants  in  the  town  over 
which  he  presided.  The  Governor  of  Auvergnc 


1572.J  THE  MASSACEE. 


Noble  replies  to  the  king's  decree. 


replied  to  the  secret  letter  of  the  king  in  the  fol- 
lowing words : 

"  Sire,  I  have  received  an  order,  under  your 
majesty's  seal,  to  put  all  the  Protestants  of  this 
province  to  death,  and  if,  which  God  forbid,  the 
order  be  genuine,  I  respect  your  majesty  still 
too  much  to  obey  you." 

The  king  had  sent  a  similar  order  to  the 
commandant  at  Bayonne,  the  Viscount  of  Or- 
thez.  The  following  noble  words  were  returned 
in  reply : 

"  Sire,  I  have  communicated  the  commands 
of  your  majesty  to  the  inhabitants  of  the  town 
and  to  the  soldiers  of  the  garrison,  and  I  have 
found  good  citizens  and  brave  soldiers,  but  not 
one  executioner  ;  on  which  account,  they  and 
I  humbly  beseech  you  to  employ  our  arms  and 
our  lives  in  enterprises  in  which  we  can  con- 
scientiously engage.  However  perilous  they 
may  be,  we  will  willingly  shed  therein  the  last 
drop  of  our  blood." 

Both  of  these  noble-minded  men  soon  after 
very  suddenly  and  mysteriously  died.  Few 
entertained  a  doubt  that  poison  had  been  ad- 
ministered by  the  order  of  Charles. 

The  law  of  France  required  that  these  Prot- 
estants should  be  hunted  to  death.  This  was 

13-9 


130  KING   HENKY   IV.  [1572. 

The  higher  law.  Attempted  justification. 

the  law  promulgated  by  the  king  and  sent  by 
his  own  letters  missive  to  the  appointed  officers 
of  the  crown. 

But  there  is — there  is  a  HIGHER  LAW  than 
that  of  kings  and  courts.  Nobly  these  majes- 
tic men  rendered  to  it  their  allegiance.  They 
sealed  their  fidelity  to  this  HIGHER  LAW  with 
their  blood.  They  were  martyrs,  not  fanatics. 

On  the  third  day  of  the  massacre  the  king 
assembled  the  Parliament  in  Paris,  and  made  a 
public  avowal  of  the  part  he  had  taken  in  this 
fearful  tragedy,  and  of  the  reasons  which  had  in- 
fluenced him  to  the  deed.  Though  lie  hoped  to 
silence  all  Protestant  tongues  in  his  own  realms 
in  death,  he  knew  that  the  tale  would  be  told 
throughout  all  Europe.  He  therefore  stated,  in 
justification  of  the  act,  that  he  had,  "  as  if  by  a 
miracle,"  discovered  that  the  Protestants  were 
engaged  in  a  conspiracy  against  his  own  lite  and 
that  of  all  of  his  family. 

This  charge,  however,  uttered  for  the  moment, 
was  speedily  dropped  and  forgotten.  There  was 
not  the  slightest  evidence  of  such  a  design. 

The  Parliament,  to  give  a  little  semblance  of 
justice  to  the  king's  accusation,  sat  in  judgment 
upon  the  memory  of  the  noble  Coligni.  They 
sentenced  him  to  be  hung  in  effigy ;  ordered  his 


1572.]  THE  MASSACEE.  131 


Punishment  of  Coligui. 


arms  to  be  dragged  at  the  heels  of  a  horse  through 
all  the  principal  towns  of  France ;  his  magnifi- 
cent castle  of  Chatillon  to  be  razed  to  its  founda- 
tions, and  never  to  be  rebuilt;  his  fertile  acres, 
in  the  culture  of  which  he  had  found  his  chief 
delight, to  be  desolated  and  sown  with  salt;  his 
portraits  and  statues,  wherever  found,  to  be  de- 
stroyed; his  children  to  lose  their  title  of  nobil- 
ity ;  all  his  goods  and  estates  to  be  confiscated 
to  the  use  of  the  crown,  and  a  monument  of  du- 
rable marble  to  be  raised,  upon  which  this  sen- 
tence of  the  court  should  be  engraved,  to  trans- 
mit to  all  posterity  his  alleged  infamy.  Thus 
was  punished  on  earth  one  of  the  noblest  serv- 
ants both  of  God  and  man.  But  there  is  a  day 
of  final  judgment  yet  to  come.  The  oppressor 
has  but  his  brief  hour.  There  is  eternity  to 
right  the  oppressed. 

Notwithstanding  this  general  and  awful  mas- 
sacre, the  Protestants  were  far  from  being  ex- 
terminated. Several  nobles,  surrounded  by  their 
retainers  in  their  distant  castles,  suspicious  of 
treachery,  had  refused  to  go  to  Paris  to  attend 
the  wedding  of  Henry  and  Marguerite.  Others 
who  had  gone  to  Paris,  alarmed  by  the  attack 
upon  Admiral  Coligni,  immediately  retired  to 
their  homes.  Some  concealed  themselves  in 


132  KING  HENRY   IV.          [1572. 

Valor  -f  the  surv  ivor.s.  Pledges  of  aid. 

garrets,  cellars,  and  wells  until  the  massacre 
was  over.  As  has  been  stated,  in  some  towns 
the  governors  refused  to  engage  in  the  mer- 
ciless butchery,  and  in  others  the  Protestants 
hud  the  majority,  and  with  their  own  arms  could 
defend  themselves  within  the  walls  which  their 
own  troops  garrisoned. 

Though,  in  the  first  panic  caused  by  the  dread- 
ful slaughter,  the  Protestants  made  no  resist- 
ance, but  rither  surrendered  themselves  submis- 
sively to  the  sword  of  the  assassin,  or  sought 
safety  in  concealment  or  flight,  soon  indignation 
took  the  place  of  fear.  Those  who  had  fled 
from  the  kingdom  to  Protestant  states  rallied 
together.  The  survivors  in  France  began  to 
count  their  numbers  and  marshal  their  forces 
for  self-preservation.  From  every  part  of  Prot- 
estant Europe  a  cry  of  horror  and  execration 
simultaneously  arose  in  view  of  this  crime  of  un- 
paralleled enormity.  In  many  places  the  Cath- 
olics themselves  seemed  appalled  in  contempla- 
tion of  the  deed  they  had  perpetrated.  Words 
of  sympathy  were  sent  to  these  martyrs  to  a 
pure  faith  from  many  of  the  Protestant  king- 
doms, with  pledges  of  determined  and  efficient 
aid.  The  Protestants  rapidly  gained  courage. 
From  all  the  country,  they  flocked  into  those 


1572.J  THE   MASSACRE.  133 

Prophecy  of  Knox.  Apolog  *  of  I  he  court. 


walled  towns  which  still  remained  in  their 
power. 

As  the  fugitives  from  France,  emaciate,  pale, 
and  woe-stricken,  with  tattered  and  dusly  garb, 
recited  in  England,  Switzerland,  and  Germany 
the  horrid  story  of  the  massacre,  the  hearts  of 
their  auditors  were  frozen  with  horror  In  Ge- 
neva a  day  of  fasting  and  prayer  was  insl  ituted, 
which  is  observed  even  to  the  present  davr.  In 
Scotland  every  church  resounded  witli  th<  thrill- 
ing tale ;  and  Knox,  whose  inflexible  spirit  was 
nerved  for  those  iron  times,  exclaimed,  in  lan- 
guage of  prophetic  nerve, 

"  Sentence  has  gone  forth  against  thar.  mur- 
derer, the  King  of  France,  and  the  vengeance  of 
God  will  never  be  withdrawn  from  his  house. 
His  name  shall  be  held  in  everlasting  execra- 
tion." 

The  French  court,  alarmed  by  the  indignation 
it  had  aroused,  sent  an  embassador  to  London 
with  a  poor  apology  for  the  crime,  by  pretend- 
ing that  the  Protestants  had  conspired  against 
the  life  of  the  king.  The  ernbassaJor  A\as  re- 
ceived in  the  court  of  the  queen  with  appalling 
coldness  and  gloom.  Arrangements  were  made 
to  invest  the  occasion  with  the  most  impressive 
solemnity.  The  court  was  shrouded  in  mourn- 


134  KING   HENRY  IV.          [1572. 


Opinions  of  the  courts  of  Kurope. 


ing,  and  all  the  lords  and  ladies  appeared  in  sa- 
ble weeds.  A  stern  and  sombre  sadness  was 
upon  every  countenance.  The  embassador, 
overwhelmed  by  his  reception,  was  overheard  to 
exclaim  to  himself,  in  bitterness  of  heart, 

"  I  am  ashamed  to  acknowledge  myself  a 
Frenchman." 

He  entered,  however,  the  presence  of  the 
queen,  passed  through  the  long  line  of  silent 
courtiers,  who  refused  to  salute  him,  or  even  to 
honor  him  with  a  look,  stammered  out  his  mis- 
erable apology,  and,  receiving  no  response,  re- 
tired covered  with  confusion.  Elizabeth,  we 
thank  thee !  This  one  noble  deed  atones  lor 
many  of  thy  crimes. 

Very  different  was  the  reception  of  these  tid- 
ings in  the  court  of  Rome.  The  messenger  who 
-carried  the  news  was  received  with  transports 
of  joy,  and  was  rewarded  with  a  thousand  pieces 
of  gold.  Cannons  were  fired,  bells  rung,  and 
an  immense  procession,  with  all  the  trappings  of 
sacerdotal  rejoicing,  paraded  the  streets.  An- 
thems were  chanted  and  thanksgivings  were  sol- 
emnly offered  for  the  great  victory  over  the  ene- 
mies of  the  Church.  A  gold  medal  was  struck 
off  to  commemorate  the  event ;  and  Charles  IX.. 
and  Catharine  were  pronounced,  by  the  infalli- 


1572.]  THE   MASSACRE.  135 

Rejuiciug>  at  Rome.  Atrocity  of  the  deed. 

ble  word  of  his  holiness,  to  be  the  especial  fa- 
vorites of  God.  Spain  and  the  Netherlands 
united  with  Rome  in  these  infamous  exulta- 
tions. Philip  II.  wrote  from  Madrid  to  Cath- 
arine, 

"  These  tidings  are  the  greatest  and  the  most 
glorious  I  could  have  received." 

Such  was  the  awful  massacre  of  St. Barthol- 
omew. When  contemplated  in  all  its  aspects 
of  perfidy,  cruelty,  and  cowardice,  it  must  be 
pronounced  the  greatest  crime  recorded  in  his- 
tory. The  victims  were  invited  under  th,e  guise 
of  friendship  to  Paris.  They  were  received  with 
solemn  oaths  of  peace  and  protection.  The 
leading  men  in  the  nation  placed  the  dagger  in 
the  hands  of  an  ignorant  and  degraded  people. 
The  priests,  professed  ministers  of  Jesus  Christ, 
stimulated  the  benighted  multitude  by  all  the 
appeals  of  fanaticism  to  exterminate  those  whom 
they  denounced  as  the  enemies  of  God  and  man. 
After  the  great  atrocity  was  perpetrated,  princes 
and  priests,  with  bloodstained  hands,  flocked  to 
the  altiirs  of  God,  our  common  Father,  to  thank 
him  that  the  massacre  had  been  accomplished. 

The  annals  of  the  world  are  filled  with  narra- 
tives of  crime  and  woe,  but  the  Massacre  of  St. 
Bartholomew  stands  perhaps  without  a  parallel. 


1.^6  KING   HENRY   IV.          [1572. 

llrsul  ,s  of  the  massacre.  Retribution. 

It  has  been  said,  "  The  blood  of  the  martyrs 
is  the  seed  of  the  Church."  This  is  only  true 
with  exceptions.  Protestantism  in  France  has 
never  recovered  from  this  blow.  But  for  this 
massacre -one  half  of  the  nobles  of  France  would 
have  continued  Protestant.  The  Reformers 
would  have  constituted  so  large  a  portion  of  the 
population  that  mutual  toleration  would  have 
been  necessary.  Henry  IV.  would  not  have  ab- 
jured Mie  Protestant  faith.  Intelligence  would 
have  been  diffused ;  religion  would  have  been 
respected  ;  and  in  all  probability,  the  horrors  of 
the  French  Revolution  would  have  been  averted. 

God  is  an  avenger.  In  the  mysterious  gov- 
ernment which  he  wields,  mysterious  only  to  our 
feeble  vision,  he  "visits  the  iniquities  of  the  fa- 
thers upon  the  children,  even  unto  the  third  and 
fourth  generation."  As  we  see  the  priests  of 
Paris  and  of  France,  during  the  awful  tragedy 
of  the  Revolution,  massacred  in  the  prisons,  shot 
in  the  streets,  hung  upon  the  lamp-posts,  and 
driven  in  starvation  and  woe  from  the  kingdom, 
we  can  not  but  remember  the  day  of  St.  Bar- 
tholomew. The  24th  of  August,  1572,  and  the 
2d  of  September,  1792,  though  far  apart  in  the 
records  of  time,  are  consecutive  days  in  the  gov- 
ernment of  God. 


VALOIS — GUISE — BOURBON.      137 

Illustrious  French  families.  The  house  of  ValoU. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

THE   HOUSES   OF  VALOIS,   OF   GUISE, 
AND  OF  BOURBON. 

AT  this  time,  in  France,  there  were  three  illus- 
trious and  rival  families,  prominent  above 
all  others.  Their  origin  was  lost  in  the  remote- 
ness of  antiquity.  Their  renown  had  been  ac- 
cumulating for  many  generations,  through  rank, 
and  wealth,  and  power,  and  deeds  of  heroic  and 
semi-barbarian  daring.  As  these  three  families 
are  so  blended  in  all  the  struggles  of  this  most 
warlike  period,  it  is  important  to  give  a  brief 
history  of  their  origin  and  condition. 

1.  The  House  of  Valois.  More  than  a  thou- 
sand years  before  the  birth  of  Christ,  we  get  dim 
glimpses  of  France,  or,  as  it  was  then  called, 
Oaul.  It  was  peopled  by  a  barbarian  race,  di- 
vided into  petty  tribes  or  clans,  each  with  its 
chieftain,  and  each  possessing  undefined  and 
sometimes  almost  unlimited  power.  Age  after 
age  rolled  on,  during  which  generations  came 
and  went  like  ocean  billows,  and  all  Gaul  was 
but  a  continued  battle-field.  The  history  of 


138  KING   HENRY   IV. 

Early  condition  of  France.  Ulovis. 

each  individual  of  its  countless  millions  seems- 
to  have  been,  that  he  was  born,  killed  as  many 
of  his  fellow-creatures  as  he  could,  and  then, 
having  acquired  thus  much  of  glory,  died. 

About  fifty  years  before  the  birth  of  Christ, 
Caesar,  with  his  conquering  hosts,  swept  through 
the  whole  country,  causing  its  rivers  to  run  red 
with  blood,  until  the  subjugated  Gauls  submit- 
ted to  Roman  sway.  In  the  decay  of  the  Roman 
empire,  about  four  hundred  years  after  Christ, 
the  Franks,  from  Germany,  a  barbarian  horde  as 
ferocious  as  wolves,  penetrated  the  northern  por- 
tion of  Gaul,  and,  obtaining  permanent  settle- 
ment there,  gave  the  whole  country  the  name 
of  France.  Clovis  was  the  chieftain  of  this  war- 
like tribe.  In  the  course  of  a  few  years,  France 
was  threatened  with  another  invasion  by  com- 
bined hordes  of  barbarians  from  the  north.  The 
chiefs  of  the  several  independent  tribes  in  France 
found  it  necessary  to  unite  to  repel  the  foe. 
They  chose  Clovis  as  their  leader.  This  was 
the  origin  of  the  French  monarchy.  He  was 
but  little  elevated  above  the  surrounding  chiet- 
tains,  but  by  intrigue  and  power  perpetuated  his 
supremacy.  For  about  three  hundred  years  the 
family  of  Clovis  retained  its  precarious  and  oft- 
contested  elevation.  At.  last,  this  line,  enervated 


V  ALOIS — GUISE BOUKBON. 

The  Carlovingian  dynasty.  Capet  and  Philiji. 

by  luxury,  became  extinct,  and  another  family 
obtained  the  throne.  This  new  dynasty,  under 
Pepin,  was  called  the  Carlovingian.  The  crown 
descended  generally  from  father  to  son  for  about 
two  hundred  years,  when  the  last  of  the  race  was 
poisoned  by  his  wife.  This  family  has  been 
rendered  very  illustrious,  both  by  Pepin  and  by 
his  son,  the  still  more  widely  renowned  Charle- 
magne. 

Hugh  Capet  then  succeeded  in  grasping  the 
sceptre,  and  for  three  hundred  years  the  Capets 
held  at  bay  the  powerful  chieftains  who  alter- 
nately assailed  and  defended  the  throne.  Thir- 
teen hundred  years  after  Christ,  the  last  of  the 
•Capets  was  borne  to  his  tomb,  and  the  feudal 
lords  gave  the  pre-eminence  to  Philip  of  Valois. 
For  about  two  hundred  years  the  house  of  Va- 
lois had  reigned.  At  the  period  of  which  we  treat 
in  this  history,  luxury  and  vice  had  brought  the 
family  near  to  extinction. 

Charles  IX.,  who  now  occupied  the  throne 
under  the  rigorous  rule  of  his  infamous  mother, 
was  feeble  in  body  and  still  more  feeble  in  mind. 
He  had  no  child,  and  there  was  no  probability 
that  he  would  ever  be  blessed  with  an  heir. 
His  exhausted  constitution  indicated  that  a  pre- 
mature death  was  his  inevitable  destiny.  His 


140  KING   HENRY   IV.          [1592. 

Decay  of  the  house  of  Valois.  House  of  Guise. 

brother  Henry,  who  had  been  elected  King  of 
Poland,  would  then  succeed  to  the  throne ;  but 
he  had  still  less  of  manly  character  than  Charles. 
An  early  death  was  his  unquestioned  doom.  At 
his  death,  if  childless,  the  house  of  Valois  would 
become  extinct.  Who  then  should  grasp  the 
rich  prize  of  the  sceptre  of  France?  The  house 
of  Guise  and  the  house  of  Bourbon  were  rivals 
for  this  honor,  and  were  mustering  their  strength 
and  arraying  their  forces  for  the  anticipated  con- 
flict. Each  family  could  bring  such  vast  influ- 
ences into  the  struggle  that  no  one  could  imag- 
ine in  whose  favor  victory  would  decide.  Such 
was  the  condition  of  the  house  of  Valois  in 
France  in  the  year  1592. 

2.  Let  us  now  turn  to  the  house  of  Guise. 
No  tale  of  fiction  can  present  a  more  fascinat- 
ing collection  of  romantic  enterprises  and  of  wild 
adventures  than  must  be  recorded  by  the  truth- 
ful historian  of  the  house  of  Guise.  On  the 
western  banks  of  the  Rhine,  between  that  river 
and  the  Meuse,  there  was  the  dukedom  of  Lor- 
raine. It  was  a  state  of  no  inconsiderable  wealth 
and  power,  extending  over  a  territory  of  about 
ten  thousand  square  miles,  and  containing  a 
million  and  a  half  of  inhabitants.  Rene  II., 
Duke  of  Lorraine,  was  a  man  of  great  renown, 


VALOIS — GUISE — BOURBON.    141 

The  dukedom  of  Lorraine.  Claude  of  Lorraine. 

and  in  all  the  pride  and  pomp  of  feudal  power 
he  energetically  governed  his  little  realm.  His 
body  was  scarred  with  the  wounds  he  had  re- 
ceived in  innumerable  battles,  and  he  was  ever 
ready  to  head  his  army  of  fifty  thousand  men,  • 
to  punish  any  of  the  feudal  lords  around  him 
who  trespassed  upon  his  rights. 

The  wealthy  old  duke  owned  large  posses- 
sions in  Normandy,  Picardy,  and  various  other 
of  the  French  provinces.  He  had  a  large  fam- 
ily. His  fifth  son,  Claude,  was  a  proud-spirit- 
ed boy  of  sixteen.  Rene  sent  this  lad  to  France, 
and  endowed  him  with  all  the  fertile  acres,  and 
the  castles,  and  the  feudal  rights  which,  in 
France,  pertained  to  the  noble  house  of  Lor- 
raine. Young  Claude  of  Lorraine  was  present- 
ed at  the  court  of  St.  Cloud  as  the  Count  of 
Guise,  a  title  derived  from  one  of  his  domains. 
His  illustrious  rank,  his  manly  beauty,  his 
princely  bearing,  his  energetic  mind,  and  brill- 
iant talents,  immediately  gave  him  great  promi- 
nence among  the  glittering  throng  of  courtiers. 
Louis  XII.  was  much  delighted  with  the  young 
count,  and  wished  to  attach  the  powerful  and 
attractive  stranger  to  his  own  house  by  an  al- 
liance with  his  daughter.  The  heart  of  the 
proud  boy  was,  however,  captivated  by  another 


142  KING   HENRY   IV. 

Marriage  of  the  Count  of  Guise.  Francis  I. 

beauty  who  embellished  the  court  of  the  mon- 
arch, and,  turning  from  the  princess  royal,  he 
sought  the  hand  of  Antoinette,  an  exceedingly 
beautiful  maiden  of  about  his  own  age,  a  daugh- 
ter of  the  house  of  Bourbon.  The  wedding  of 
this  young  pair  was  celebrated  with  great  mag- 
nificence in  Paris,  in  the  presence  of  the  whole 
French  court.  Claude  was  then  but  sixteen 
years  of  age. 

A  few  days  after  this  event  the  infirm  old 
king  espoused  the  young  and  beautiful  sister  of 
Henry  VIII.  of  England.  The  Count  of  Guise 
was  honored  with  the  commission  of  proceeding 
to  Boulogne  with  several  princes  of  the  blood 
to  receive  the  royal  bride.  Louis  soon  died, 
and  his  son,  Francis  I.,  ascended  the  throne 
Claude  was,  by  marriage,  his  cousin.  He  couk/ 
bring  all  the  influence  of  the  proud  house  o» 
Bourbon  and  the  powerful  house  of  Lorraine  m 
support  of  the  king.  His  own  energetic,  fear- 
less, war-loving  spirit  invested  him  with  great 
power  in  those  barbarous  days  of  violence  anc» 
blood.  Francis  received  his  young  cousin  intv. 
high  favor.  Claude  was,  indeed,  a  young  ma*, 
of  very  rare  accomplishments.  His  prowess  irv 
the  jousts  and  tournaments,  then  so  common, 
and  his  grace  and  magnificence  in  the  drawing- 


VALOIS — GUISE — BOURBON.    143 

The  suggestion  and  its  results. 

room,  rendered  him  an  object  of  universal  ad- 
miration. 

One  night  Claude  accompanied  Francis  I.  to 
the  queen's  circle.  She  had  gathered  around 
her  the  most  brilliant  beauty  of  her  realm.  In 
those  days  woman  occupied  a  very  inferior  po- 
sition in  society,  and  seldom  made  her  appear- 
ance in  the  general  assemblages  of  men.  The 
gallant  young  count  was  fascinated  with  the 
amiability  and  charms  of  those  distinguished  la- 
dies, and  suggested  to  the  king  the  expediency 
of  breaking  over  the  restraints  which  long  usage 
had  imposed,  and  embellishing  his  court  with 
the  attractions  of  female  society  and  conversa- 
tion. The  king  immediately  adopted  the  wel- 
come suggestion,  and  decided  that,  throughout 
the  whole  realm,  women  should  be  freed  from 
the  unjust  restraint  to  which  they  had  so  long 
been  subject.  Guise  had  already  gained  the 
good-will  of  the  nobility  and  of  the  army,  and 
he  now  became  a  universal  favorite  with  the 
ladies,  and  was  thus  the  most  popular  man  in 
France.  Francis  I.  was  at  this  time  making 
preparations  for  the  invasion  of  Italy,  and  the 
Count  of  Guise,  though  but  eighteen  years  of 
age,  was  appointed  commander-in-chief  of  a  di- 
vision of  the  army  consisting  of  twenty  thou- 
sand men. 


144  KING   HENRY   IV. 

llravery  of  the  duke.  His  prominence, 

In  all  the  perils  of  the  bloody  battles  which 
soon  ensued,  he  displayed  that  utter  reckless- 
ness of  danger  which  had  been  the  distinguish- 
ing trait  of  his  ancestors.  In  the  first  battle, 
when  discomfiture  and  flight  were  spreading: 
through  his  ranks,  the  proud  count  refused  to> 
retire  one  step  before  his  foes.  He  was  sur- 
rounded, overmatched,  his  horse  killed  from  un- 
der him,  and  he  fell,  covered  with  twenty-two- 
wounds,  in  the  midst  of  the  piles  of  mangled 
bodies  which  strewed  the  ground.  He  was  aft- 
erward dragged  from  among  the  dead,  insensi- 
ble and  apparently  lifeless,  and  conveyed  to  his 
tent,  where  his  vigorous  constitution,  and  that 
energetic  vitality  which  seemed  to  characterize 
his  race,  triumphed  over  wounds  whose  severity 
rendered  their  cure  almost  miraculous. 

Francis  I.,  in  his  report  of  the  battle,  extolled 
in  the  most  glowing  terms  the  prodigies  of  valor 
which  Guise  had  displayed.  War,  desolating 
war,  still  ravaged  wretched  Europe,  and  Guise, 
with  his  untiring  energy,  became  so  prominent 
in  the  court  and  the  camp  that  he  was  regarded 
rather  as  an  ally  of  the  King  of  France  than  a» 
his  subject.  His  enormous  fortune,  his  ances- 
tral renown,  the  vast  political  and  military  in- 
fluences which  were  at  his  command,  made  him 


VALOIS — GUISE — BOURBON.      145 

Days  of  war.  The  bloody  rout. 

almost  equal  to  the  monarch  whom  he  served. 
Francis  lavished  honors  upon  him,  converted 
one  of  his  counties  into  a  dukedom,  and,  as  duke 
of  Guise,  young  Claude  of  Lorraine  had  now 
attained  the  highest  position  which  a  subject 
could  occupy. 

Years  of  conflagration,  carnage,  and  woe  roll- 
ed over  war-deluged  Europe,  during  which  all 
the  energies  of  the  human  race  seemed  to  be 
expended  in  destruction;  and  in  almost  every 
scene  of  smouldering  cities,  of  ravaged  valleys, 
of  battle-fields  rendered  hideous  with  the  shouts 
of  onset  and  shrieks  of  despair,  we  see  the  ap- 
parition of  the  stalwart  frame  of  Guise,  scarred, 
and  war-worn,  and  blackened  with  the  smoke 
and  dust  of  the  fray,  riding  upon  his  proud 
charger,  wherever  peril  was  most  imminent,  as 
if  his  body  were  made  of  iron. 

At  one  time  he  drove  before  him,  in  most 
bloody  rout,  a  numerous  army  of  Germans. 
The  fugitives,  spreading  over  leagues  of  coun- 
try, fled  by  his  own  strong  castle  of  Neufcha- 
teau.  Antoinette  and  the  ladies  of  her  court 
stood  upon  the  battlements  of  the  castle,  gazing 
upon  the  scene,  to  them  so  new  and  to  them  so 
pleasantly  exciting.  As  they  saw  the  charges 
of  the  cavalry  trampling  the  dead  and  the  dy- 
13—10 


146  KING   HENRY   IV. 

Scene  from  the  castle.  Claude  the  Butcher. 

ing  beneath  their  feet,  as  they  witnessed  all  the 
horrors  of  that  most  horrible  scene  which  earth 
can  present — a  victorious  army  cutting  to  pieces 
its  flying  foes,  with  shouts  of  applause  they  an- 
imated the  ardor  of  the  victors.  The  once  fair- 
faced  boy  had  now  become  a  veteran.  His 
bronzed  cheek  and  sinewy  frame  attested  his 
life  of  hardship  and  toil.  The  nobles  were  jeal- 
ous of  his  power.  The  king  was  annoyed  by 
his  haughty  bearing ;  but  he  was  the  idol  of  the 
people.  In  one  campaign  he  caused  the  death 
of  forty  thousand  Protestants,  for  he  was  the 
devoted  servant  of  mother  Church.  Claude 
the  Rutcher  was  the  not  inappropriate  name  by 
which  the  Protestants  designated  him.  His 
brother  John  attained  the  dignity  of  Cardinal 
of  Lorraine.  Claude  with  his  keen  sword,  and 
John  with  pomp,  and  pride,  and  spiritual  power, 
became  the  most  relentless  foes  of  the  Refor- 
mation, and  the  most  valiant  defenders  of  the 
Catholic  faith. 

The  kind-heartedness  of  the  wealthy  but  dis- 
solute cardinal,  and  the  prodigality  of  his  char- 
ity, rendered  him  almost  as  popular  as  his  war- 
like brother.  When  he  went  abroad,  his  valet 
de  chambre  invariably  prepared  him  a  bag  fill- 
ed with  gold,  from  which  he  gave  to  the  poor 


VALOIS — GUISE — BOURBON.      147 

The  Cardinal  of  Lorraine.  The  reprimand. 

most  freely.  His  reputation  for  charity  was  so 
exalted  that  a  poor  blind  mendicant,  to  whom 
he  gave  gold  in  the  streets  of  Rome,  overjoyed 
at  the  acquisition  of  such  a  treasure,  exclaim- 
ed, "  Surely  thou  art  either  Christ  or  the  Car- 
dinal of  Lorraine. " 

The  Duke  of  Guise,  in  his  advancing  years, 
was  accompanied  to  the  field  of  battle  by  his 
son  Francis,  who  inherited  all  of  his  father's 
courtly  bearing,  energy,  talent,  and  headlong 
valor.  At  the  siege  of  Luxemburg  a  musket 
ball  shattered  the  ankle  of  young  Francis,  then 
Count  of  Aumale,  and  about  eighteen  years  of 
age.  As  the  surgeon  was  operating  upon  the 
splintered  bones  and  quivering  nerves,  the  suf- 
ferer gave  some  slight  indication  of  his  sense  of 
pain.  His  iron  father  severely  reprimanded 
him,  saying, 

"  Persons  of  your  rank  should  not  feel  their 
wounds,  but,  on  the  contrary,  should  take  pleas- 
ure in  building  up  their  reputation  upon  the  ruin 
of  their  bodies." 

Others  of  the  sons  of  Claude  also  signalized 
themselves  in  the  wars  which  then  desolated 
Europe,  and  they  received  wealth  and  honors. 
The  king  erected  certain  lands  and  lordships  be- 
longing to  the  Duke  of  Guise  into  a  marquisate, 


148  KING  HENRY  IV. 


Duke  of  Mayence.  The  family  of  Guise. 

and  then  immediately  elevated  the  marquisate 
into  a  duchy,  and  the  youngest  son  of  the  Duke 
of  Guise,  inheriting  the  property,  was  ennobled 
with  the  title  of  the  Duke  of  Mayence.  Thus 
there  were  two  rich  dukedoms  in  the  same 
family. 

Claude  had  six  sons,  all  young  men  of  impe- 
rious spirit  and  magnificent  bearing.  They 
were  allied  by  marriage  with  the  most  illustri- 
ous families  in  France,  several  of  them  being 
connected  with  princes  of  the  blood  royal.  The 
war-worn  duke,  covered  with  wounds  which  he 
deemed  his  most  glorious  ornaments,  often  ap- 
peared at  court  accompanied  by  his  sons.  They 
occupied  the  following  posts  of  rank  and  powerx: 
Francis,  the  eldest,  Count  of  Aumale,  was  the  heir 
of  the  titles  and  the  estates  of  the  noble  house. 
Claude  was  Marquis  of  Mayence ;  Charles  was 
Archbishop  of  Rheims,  the  richest  benefice  in 
France,  and  he  soon  attained  one  of  the  highest 
dignities  of  the  Church  by  the  reception  of  a 
cardinal's  hat ;  Louis  was  Bishop  of  Troyes, 
and  Francis,  the  youngest,  Chevalier  of  Lor- 
raine and  Duke  of  Mayence,  was  general  of  the 
galleys  of  France.  One  of  the  daughters  was 
married  to  the  King  of  Scotland,  and  the  others 
had  formed  most  illustrious  connections.  Thus 


1550.]  VALOIS — GUISE — BOURBON.    149 

Henry  the  Eighth.  Death  of  Claude. 

the  house  of  Guise  towered  proudly  and  sublime- 
ly from  among  the  noble  families  in  the  midst 
of  whom  it  had  so  recently  been  implanted. 

Henry  VIII.  of  England,  inflamed  by  the  re- 
port of  the  exceeding  beauty  of  Mary,  daughter 
of  the  Duke  of  Guise,  had  solicited  her  hand ; 
but  Claude  was  unwilling  to  surrender  his 
daughter  to  England's  burly  and  brutal  old  ty- 
rant, and  declined  the  regal  alliance.  The  ex- 
asperated monarch,  in  revenge,  declared  war 
against  France.  Years  of  violence  and  blood 
lingered  away.  At  last  Claude,  aged  and  in- 
firm, surrendered  to  that  king  of  terrors  before 
whom  all  must  bow.  In  his  strong  castle  of 
Joinville,  on  the  twelfth  of  April,  1550,  the  il- 
lustrious, magnanimous,  blood-stained  duke, 
after  a  whole  lifetime  spent  in  slaughter,  breath- 
ed his  last.  His  children  and  his  grandchil- 
dren were  gathered  around  the  bed  of  the  dy- 
ing chieftain.  In  the  darkness  of  that  age,  he 
felt  that  he  had  been  contending,  with  divine  ap- 
proval, for  Christ  and  his  Church.  With  pray- 
ers and  thanksgivings,  and  language  expressive 
of  meekness  and  humility  before  God,  he  as- 
cended to  that  tribunal  of  final  judgment  where 
there  is  no  difference  between  the  peasant  and 
the  prince. 


150  KING   HENRY   IV. 

Francis,  Duke  of  Guise.  The  dreadful  wound. 

The  chivalrous  and  warlike  Francis  inherit- 
ed his  father's  titles,  wealth,  and  power ;  and 
now  the  house  of  Guise  was  so  influential  that 
the  king  trembled  in  view  of  its  rivalry.  It 
was  but  the  kingly  office  alone  which  rendered 
the  house  of  Valois  superior  to  the  house  of 
Guise.  In  illustration  of  the  character  of  those 
times,  and  the  hardihood  and  sufferings  through 
which  the  renown  of  these  chieftains  was  ob- 
tained, the  following  anecdote  may  be  narrated. 

Francis,  Duke  of  Guise,  in  one  of  the  skir- 
mishes with  the  English  invaders,  received  a 
wound  which  is  described  as  the  most  severe 
from  which  any  one  ever  recovered.  The  lance 
of  an  English  officer  "entered  above  the  right 
eye,  declining  toward  the  nose,  and  piercing 
through  on  the  other  side,  between  the  nape  and 
the  ear."  The  weapon,  having  thus  penetrated 
the  head  more  than  half  a  foot,  was  broken  off 
by  the  violence  of  the  blow,  the  lance-iron  and 
two  fingers'  breadth  of  the  staff  remaining  in  the 
dreadful  wound.  The  surgeons  of  the  army, 
stupefied  by  the  magnitude  of  the  injury,  de- 
clined to  attempt  the  extraction  of  the  splinter, 
saying  that  it  would  only  expose  him  to  dread- 
fill  and  unavailing  suffering,  as  he  must  inevi- 
tably die.  The  king  immediately  sent  his  sur- 


VALOIS — GUISE — BOURBON.      151 

Le  Balafro.  Interview  with  the  king. 

geon,  with  orders  to  spare  no  possible  efforts  to 
save  the  life  of  the  hero.  The  lance-head  was 
broken  off  so  short  that  it  Was  impossible  to 
grasp  it  with  the  hand.  The  surgeon  took  the 
heavy  pincers  of  a  blacksmith,  and  asked  the 
sufferer  if  he  would  allow  him  to  make  use  of 
so  rude  an  instrument,  and  would  also  permit 
him  to  place  his  foot  upon  his  face. 

"  You  may  do  any  thing  you  consider  nec- 
essary," said  the  duke. 

The  officers  standing  around  looked  on  with 
horror  as  the  king's  surgeon,  aided  by  an  expe- 
rienced practitioner,  tore  out  thus  violently  the 
barbed  iron,  fracturing  the  bones,  and  tearing 
nerves,  veins,  and  arteries.  The  hardy  soldier 
bore  the  anguish  without  the  contraction  of  a 
muscle,  and  was  only  heard  gently  to  exclaim 
to  himself,  "Oh  my  God!"  The  sufferer  re- 
covered, and  ever  after  regarded  the  frightful 
scar  which  was  left  as  a  signal  badge  of  honor. 
He  hence  bore  the  common  name  of  Le  Bala- 
fre,  or  The  Scarred. 

As  the  duke  returned  to  court,  the  king  hur- 
ried forth  from  his  chamber  to  meet  him,  em- 
braced him  warmly,  and  said, 

"It  is  fair  that  I  should  come  out  to  meet 
my  old  friend,  who,  on  his  part,  is  ever  so  ready 
to  meet  my  enemies." 


152  KING   HENRY   IV. 

Jealousy  of  the  king.  Arrogance  of  the  Guises. 

Gradually,  however,  Francis,  the  king,  be- 
came very  jealous  of  the  boundless  popularity 
and  enormous  power  acquired  by  this  ambitious 
house.  Upon  his  dying  bed  he  warned  his  son 
of  the  dangerous  rivalry  to  which  the  Guises 
had  attained,  and  enjoined  it  upon  him  to  curb 
their  ambition  by  admitting  none  of  the  princes 
of  that  house  to  a  share  in  the  government ;  but 
as  soon  as  King  Francis  was  consigned  to  his 
tomb,  Henry  II.,  his  son  and  successor,  rallied 
the  members  of  this  family  around  him,  and 
made  the  duke  almost  the  partner  of  his  throne. 
He  needed  the  support  of  the  strong  arm  and 
of  the  inexhaustible  purse  of  the  princes  of  Lor*- 
raine. 

The  arrogance  of  the  Guises,  or  the  princes 
of  Lorraine,  as  they  were  frequently  called,  in 
consequence  of  their  descent  from  Claude  of 
Lorraine,  reached  such  a  pitch  that  on  the  oc- 
casion of  a  proud  pageant,  when  Henry  II.  was 
on  a  visit  of  inspection  to  one  of  his  frontier 
fortresses,  the  Duke  of  Guise  claimed  equal  rank 
with  Henry  of  Navarre,  who  was  not  only  King 
of  Navarre,  but,  as  the  Duke  of  Vendome,  was 
also  first  prince  of  the  blood  in  France.  An  an- 
gry dispute  immediately  arose.  The  king  set- 
tled it  in  favor  of  the  audacious  Guise,  for  he 


VALOIS — GUISE — BOURBON.      153 

Power  of  the  house  of  Guise.  Appointment  of  Francis. 

was  intimidated  by  the  power  of  that  arrogant 
house.  He  thus  exasperated  Henry  of  Navarre, 
and  also  nurtured  the  pride  of  a  dangerous  rival. 

All  classes  were  now  courting  the  Duke  of 
Guise.  The  first  nobles  of  the  land  sought  his 
protection  and  support  by  flattering  letters  and 
costly  presents.  "  From  all  quarters,"  says  an 
ancient  manuscript,  "he  received  offerings  of 
wine,  fruit,  confections,  ortolans,  horses,  dogs, 
hawks,  and  gerfalcons.  The  letters  accompa- 
nying these  often  contained  a  second  paragraph 
petitioning  for  pensions  or  grants  from  the  king, 
or  for  places,  even  down  to  that  of  apothecary 
or  of  barber  to  the  Dauphin."  The  monarchs 
of  foreign  countries  often  wrote  to  him  soliciting 
his  aid.  The  duke,  in  the  enjoyment  of  this 
immense  wealth,  influence,  and  power,  assumed 
the  splendors  of  royalty,  and  his  court  was 
hardly  inferior  to  that  of  the  monarch.  The 
King  of  Poland  and  the  Duke  of  Guise  were  ri- 
vals for  the  hand  of  Anne,  the  beautiful  daugh- 
ter of  the  Duke  of  Ferrara,  and  Guise  was  the 
successful  suitor. 

Francis  of  Lorraine  was  now  appointed  lieu- 
tenant general  of  the  French  armies,  and  the 
king  addressed  to  all  the  provincial  authorities 
special  injunction  to  render  as  prompt  and  ab- 


154  KING    HENRY   IV.          [1560. 

Thralldora  of  Henry  II.  Mary,  Queen  of  Scots. 

solute  obedience  to  the  orders  of  the  Duke  of 
Guise  as  if  they  emanated  from  himself.  "And 
truly,"  says  one  of  the  writers  of  those  times, 
"never  had  monarch  in  France  been  obeyed 
more  punctually  or  with  greater  zeal."  In  fact. 
Guise  was  now  the  head  of  the  government, 
and  all  the  great  interests  of  the  nation  were  or- 
dered by  his  mind.  Henry  was  a  feeble  prince, 
with  neither  vigor  of  body  nor  energy  of  intel- 
lect to  resist  the  encroachments  of  so  imperial  a 
spirit.  He  gave  many  indications  of  uneasiness 
in  view  of  his  own  thralldom,  but  he  was  en- 
tirely unable  to  dispense  with  the  aid  of  his  sa- 
gacious ally. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  one  of  the  daugh- 
ters of  Claude,  and  a  sister  of  Francis,  the  sec- 
ond duke  of  Guise,  married  the  King  of  Scot- 
land. Her  daughter,  the  niece  of  Francis,  was 
the  celebrated  Mary,  Queen  of  Scots.  She  had 
been  sent  to  France  for  her  education,  and  she 
was  married,  when  very  young,  to  her  cousin 
Francis,  son  of  Henry  II.  and  of  the  infamous 
Catharine  de  Medici.  He  was  heir  of  the  French 
throne.  This  wedding  was  celebrated  with  the 
utmost  magnificence,  and  the  Guises  moved  on 
the  occasion  through  the  palaces  of  royalty  with 
the  pride  of  monarchs.  Henry  II.  was  acci- 


1560.]  VALOIS — GUISE — Bo  UK  BON.     155 

l-'raucis  II.  Troubles  between  the  Protestants  and  Catholics. 

dentally  killed  in  a  tournament ;  and  Francis, 
his  son,  under  the  title  of  Francis  II.,  with  his 
young  and  beautiful  bride,  the  unfortunate  Mary, 
Queen  of  Scots,  ascended  the  throne.  Francis 
was  a  feeble-minded,"  consumptive  youth  of  16, 
whose  thoughts  were  all  centred  in  his  lovely 
wife.  Mary,  who  was  but  fifteen  years  of  age, 
was  fascinating  in  the  extreme,  and  entirely  de- 
voted to  pleasure.  She  gladly  transferred  all 
the  power  of  the  realm  to  her  uncles,  the  Guises. 
About  this  time  the  conflict  between  the  Cath- 
olics and  the  Protestants  began  to  grow  more 
violent.  The  Catholics  drew  the  sword  for  the 
extirpation  of  heresy ;  the  Protestants  grasped 
their  arms  to  defend  themselves.  The  Guises 
consecrated  all  their  energies  to  the  support  of 
the  Papal  Church  and  to  the  suppression  of  the 
Reformation.  The  feeble  boy,  Francis  II.,  sat 
languidly  upon  his  throne  but  seventeen  months, 
when  he  died,  on  the  5th  of  December,  1560, 
and  his  brother,  Charles  IX.,  equally  enervated 
in  mind  and  with  far  less  moral  worth,  succeed- 
ed to  the  crown.  The  death  of  Francis  II.  was 
a  heavy  blow  to  the  Guises.  The  Admiral  Co- 
ligni,  one  of  the  most  illustrious  of  the  Protest- 
ants, and  the  bosom  friend  of  Henry  of  Na- 
varre, was  standing,  with  many  other  nobles,  at 


156  KING   HENRY  IV. 

Admiral  C'oligni.  Antoinette 

the  bedside  of  the  monarch  as  he  breathed  his 
last. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  the  admiral,  with  that 
gravity  which- was  in  accordance  with  his  char- 
acter and  his  religious  principles,  "  the  king  is 
dead.  It  is  a  lesson  to  teach  us  all  how  to  live.'' 

The  Protestants  could  not  but  rejoice  that 
the  Guises  had  thus  lost  the  peculiar  influence 
which  they  had  secured  from  their  near  rela- 
tionship to  the  queen.  Admiral  Coligni  retired 
from  the  death-bed  of  the  monarch  to  his  own 
mansion,  and,  sitting  down  by  the  fire,  became 
lost  in  the  most  profound  reverie.  He  did  not 
observe  that  his  boots  were  burning  until  one 
of  his  friends  called  his  attention  to  the  fact. 

"  Ah !"  he  replied,  "not  a  week  ago,  you  and 
I  would  each  have  given  a  leg  to  have  things 
take  this  turn,  and  now  we  get  off  with  a  pair 
of  boots." 

Antoinette,  the  widow  of  Claude  of  Lorraine, 
and  the  mother  of  Francis,  the  then  Duke  of 
Guise,  was  still  living.  She  was  so  rancorous 
in  her  hostility  to  the  Protestants  that  she  was 
designated  by  them  '''•Mother  of  the  tyrants 
and  enemies  of  the  Gospel"  Greatly  to  her 
annoyance,  a  large  number  of  Protestants  con- 
ducted their  worship  in  the  little  town  of  Vassy, 


VALOIS — GUISE — BOURBON.      157 

Massacre  by  the  Duke  of  Guise. 

just  on  the  frontier  of  the  domains  of  the  Duke 
of  Guise.  She  was  incessantly  imploring  her 
son  to  drive  off  these  obnoxious  neighbors.  The 
duke  was  at  one  time  journeying  with  his  wife. 
Their  route  lay  through  the  town  of  Vassy.  His 
suite  consisted  of  two  hundred  and  sixty  men 
&t  arms,  all  showing  the  warlike  temper  of  their 
chief,  and  even  far  surpassing  him  in  bigoted 
hatred  of  the  Protestants. 

On  arriving  at  Vassy,  the  duke  entered  the 
church  to  hear  high  mass.  It  is  said  that  while 
engaged  in  this  act  of  devotion  his  ears  were  an- 
noyed by  the  psalms  of  the  Protestants,  who 
were  assembled  in  the  vicinity.  He  sent  an 
imperious  message  for  the  minister  and  the  lead- 
ing members  of  the  congregation  immediately  to 
appear  before  him.  The  young  men  fulfilled 
their  mission  in  a  manner  so  taunting  and  in- 
sulting that  a  quarrel  ensued,  shots  were  ex- 
changed, and  immediately  all  the  vassals  of  the 
duke,  who  were  ripe  for  a  fray,  commenced  an 

indiscriminate  massacre.      The  Protestants  val- 

• 

iantly  but  unavailingly  defended  themselves 
with  sticks  and  stones ;  but  the  bullets  of  their 
enemies  reached  them  everywhere,  in  the  houses, 
on  the  roofs,  in  the  streets.  For  an  hour  the  car- 
nage continued  unchecked,  and  sixty  men  and 


KING   HENRY   IV. 


The  Butcher  of  Vassy.  .Remonstrance  to  the  queen. 

women  were  killed  and  two  hundred  wounded. 
One  only  of  the  men  of  the  duke  was  killed. 
Francis  was  ashamed  of  this  slaughter  of  the 
defenseless,  and  declared  that  it  was  a  sudden 
outbreak,  for  which  he  was  not  responsible,  and 
which  he  had  done  every  thing  in  his  power  to 
check ;  but  ever  after  this  he  was  called  by  the 
Protestants  "The  Butcher  of  Vassy" 

When  the  news  of  this  massacre  reached  Par- 
is, Theodore  de  Beza  was  deputed  by  the  Prot- 
estants to  demand  of  Catharine,  their  regent,  se- 
vere justice  on  the  Duke  of  Guise ;  but  Cath- 
arine feared  the  princes  of  Lorraine,  and  said  to 
Beza, 

"  Whoever  touches  so  much  as  the  finger-tip 
of  the  Duke  of  Guise,  touches  me  in  the  middle 
of  my  heart." 

Beza  meekly  but  courageously  replied,  "It 
assuredly  behooves  that  Church  of  God,  in  whose 
name  I  speak,  to  endure  blows  and  not  to  strike 
them ;  but  may  it  please  your  majesty  also  to 
remember  that  it  is  an  anvil  which  has  worn 
out  many  hammers." 

At  the  siege  of  Eouen  the  Duke  of  Guise  was 
informed  that  an  assassin  had  been  arrested  who 
had  entered  the  camp  with  the  intention  of  tak- 
ing his  life.  He  ordered  the  man  to  be  brought 
before  him,  and  calmly  inquired, 


VALOIS — GUISE — BOUEBON.      159 

Magnanimity  of  the  Duke  of  Guise.  Religious  \vaiv. 

"  Have  you  not  come  hither  to  kill  me?" 

The  intrepid  but  misguided  young  man  open- 
ly avowed  his  intention. 

"And  what  motive,"  inquired  the  duke,  "  im- 
pelled you  to  such  a  deed  ?  Have  I  done  you 
any  wrong?" 

"  No,"  he  replied ;  "but  in  removing  you  from 
the  world  I  should  promote  the  best  interests 
of  the  Protestant  religion,  which  I  profess." 

"My  religion,  then, "  generously  replied  the 
duke,  "is  better  than  yours,  for  it  commands 
me  to  pardon,  of  my  own  accord,  you  who  are 
convicted  of  guilt."  And,  by  his  orders,  the  as- 
sassin was  safely  conducted  out  of  camp. 

"A  fine  exam  pie,  "exclaims  his  historian,  "of 
truly  religious  sentiments  and  magnanimous 
prosely  tism  very  natural  to  the  Duke  of  Guise, 
the  most  moderate  and  humane  of  the  chiefs  of 
the  Catholic  army,  and  whose  brilliant  generos- 
ity had  been  but  temporarily  obscured  by  the 
occurrence  at  Vassy." 

The  war  between  the  Catholics  and  Protest- 
ants was  now  raging  with  implacable  fury,  arid 
Guise,  victorious  in  many  battles,  had  acquired 
from  the  Catholic  party  the  name  of  "  Savior  of 
his  Country."  The  duke  was  now  upon  the 
very  loftiest  summits  of  power  which  a  subject 


160  KING  HENRY  IV. 

Assassination  of  the  Duke  of  Guise. 

can  attain.  In  great  exaltation  of  spirits,  he 
one  morning  left  the  army  over  which  he  was 
commander-in-chief  to  visit  the  duchess,  who 
had  come  to  meet  him  at  the  neighboring  castle 
of  Corney.  The  duke  very  imprudently  took 
with  him  merely  one  general  officer  and  a  page. 
It  was  a  beautiful  morning  in  February.  As 
he  crossed,  in  a  boat,  the  mirrored  surface  of  the 
Loiret,  the  vegetation  of  returning  spring  and 
the  songs  of  the  rejoicing  birds  strikingly  con- 
trasted with  the  blood,  desolation,  and  misery 
with  which  the  hateful  spirit  of  war  was  deso- 
lating France.  The  duke  was  silent,  apparent- 
ly lost  in  painful  reveries.  His  companions 
disturbed  not  his  thoughts.  Having  crossed 
the  stream,  he  was  slowly  walking  his  horse, 
with  the  reins  hanging  listlessly  upon  his  mane, 
when  a  pistol  was  discharged  at  him  from  be- 
hind a  hedge,  at  a  distance  of  but  six  or  seven 
paces.  Two  bullets  pierced  his  side.  On  feel- 
ing himself  wounded,  he  calmly  said, 

"  They  have  long  had  this  shot  in  reserve  for 
me.  I  deserve  it  for  my  want  of  precaution/ 

He  immediately  fell  upon  his  horse's  neck, 
and  was  caught  in  the  arms  of  his  friends. 
They  conveyed  him  to  the  castle,  where  the 
duchess  received  him  with  cries  of  anguish.  ILe 


13—11 


1563.J    VALOIS — GUISE — BOURBON.    163 

Death  of  the  duke.  Jean  Poltrot. 

embraced  her  tenderly,  minutely  described  the 
circumstances  of  his  assassination,  and  express- 
ed himself  grieved  in  view  of  the  stain  which 
such  a  crime  would  inflict  upon  the  honor  of 
France.  He  exhorted  his  wife  to  bow  in  sub- 
mission to  the  will  of  Heaven,  and  kissing  his 
son  Henry,  the  Duke  of  Joinville,  who  was 
weeping  by  his  side,  gently  said  to  him, 

"God  grant  thee  grace,  my  son,  to  be  a  good 
man." 

Thus  died  Francis,  the  second  Duke  of  Guise, 
on  the  twenty-fourth  of  February,  1563.  His 
murderer  was  a  young  Protestant  noble,  Jean 
Poltrot,  twenty-four  years  of  age.  Poltrot,  from 
being  an  ardent  Catholic,  had  embraced  the  Prot- 
estant faith.  This  exposed  him  to  persecution, 
and  he  was  driven  from  France  with  the  loss  of 
his  estates.  He  was  compelled  to  support  him- 
self by  manual  labor.  Soured  in  disposition, 
exasperated  and  half  maddened,  he  insanely  felt 
that  he  would  be  doing  God  service  by  the  as- 
sassination of  the  Butcher  of  Vassy,  the  most 
formidable  foe  of  the  Protestant  religion.  It 
was  a  day  of  general  darkness,  and  of  the  con- 
fusion of  all  correct  ideas  of  morals. 

Henry,  the  eldest  son  of  the  Duke  of  Guise, 
a  lad  of  but  thirteen  years  of  age,  noAV  inherited 


164  KING   HENRY   IV. 


Anecdote.  Prediction  of  Francis. 

the  titles  and  the  renown  which  his  bold  ances- 
tors had  accumulated.  This  was  the  Duke  of 
Guise  who  was  the  bandit  chieftain  in  the  Mas- 
sacre of  St.  Bartholomew. 

One  day  Henry  II.  was  holding  his  little 
daughter  Marguerite,  who  afterward  became  the 
wife  of  Henry  of  Navarre,  in  his  lap,  when  Hen- 
ry of  Guise,  then  Prince  of  Joinville,  and  the 
Marquis  of  Beaupreau,  were  playing  together 
upon  the  floor,  the  one  being  but  seven  years 
of  age,  and  the  other  but  nine. 

"  Which  of  the  two  do  you  like  the  best  ?" 
inquired  the  king  of  his  child. 

"I  prefer  the  marquis,"  she  promptly  replied. 

"  Yes;  but  the  Prince  of  Joinville  is  the  hand- 
somest," the  king  rejoined. 

"  Oh,"  retorted  Marguerite,  "  he  is  always  in 
mischief,  and  he  will  be  master  every  where." 

Francis,  the  Duke  of  Guise,  had  fully  appre- 
hended the  ambitious,  impetuous,  and  reckless 
character  of  his  son.  He  is  said  to  have  pre- 
dicted that  Henry,  intoxicated  by  popularity, 
would  perisli  in  the  attempt  to  seat  himself  upon 
the  throne  of  France. 

"  Henry,"  says  a  writer  of  those  times,  "  sur- 
passed all  the  princes  of  his  house  in  certain 
natural  gifts,  in  certain  talents,  which  procured 


VALOIS — GUISE — BOURBON.      165 

Enthusiasm  of  the  populace.  The  house  of  Bourbon. 

him  the  respect  of  the  court,  the  affection  of  the 
people,  but  which,  nevertheless,  were  tarnished 
by  a  singular  alloy  of  great  faults  and  unlimit- 
ed ambition." 

"  France  was  mad  about  that  man,"  writes 
another,  "  for  it  is  too  little  to  say  that  she  was 
in  love  with  him.  Her  passion  approached  idol- 
atry. There  were  persons  who  invoked  him  in 
their  prayers.  His  portrait  was  every  where. 
Some  ran  after  him  in  the  streets  to  touch  his 
mantle  with  their  rosaries.  One  day  that  he 
entered  Paris  on  his  return  from  a  journey,  the 
multitude  not  only  cried  '  Vive  Guise  /'  but 
many  sang,  on  his  passage,  ' Hosanna  to  the  son 
of  David  f" 

3.  The  House  of  Bourbon.  The  origin  of 
this  family  fades  away  in  the  remoteness  of  an- 
tiquity. Some  bold  chieftain,  far  remote  in  bar- 
barian ages,  emerged  from  obscurity  and  laid 
the  foundations  of  the  illustrious  house.  Gen- 
eration after  generation  passed  away,  as  the  son 
succeeded  the  father  in  baronial  pomp,  and 
pride,  and  power,  till  the  light  of  history,  with 
its  steadily-increasing  brilliancy,  illumined  Eu- 
rope. The  family  had  often  been  connected  in 
marriage  both  with  the  house  of  Guise  and  the 
royal  line,  the  house  of  Valois.  Antony  of  Bour- 


166  KING   HENKY   IV. 


The  houses  united. 


bon,  a  sturdy  soldier,  united  the  houses  of  Bour- 
bon and  Navarre  by  marrying  Jeanne  d'Albret, 
the  only  child  of  the  King  of  Navarre.  Henry 
came  from  the  union,  an  only  son  ;  and  lie,  by 
marrying  Marguerite,  the  daughter  of  the  King 
of  France,  united  the  houses  of  Bourbon,  Na- 
varre, and  Valois,  and  became  heir  to  the  throne 
of  France  should  the  sons  of  Henry  II.  die  with- 
out issue. 

This  episode  in  reference  to  the  condition  of 
France  at  the  time  of  which  we  write  seems  nec- 
essary to  enable  the  reader  fully  to  understand 
the  succeeding  chapters. 


DEATH   OF  CHAELES   IX.       167 


Henry,  King  of  Poland. 


CHAPTER  VII. 

THE  DEATH  OF  CHARLES  IX.  AND  THE 
ACCESSION   OF  HENRY  III. 

AFTER  the  Massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew, 
a  large  number  of  the  Protestants  threw 
themselves  into  the  city  of  Rochelle.  For  sev- 
en months  they  were  besieged  by  all  the  power 
which  the  King  of  France  could  bring  against 
them.  They  were  at  length,  weakened  by  sick- 
ness and  exhausted  by  famine,  compelled  to  sur- 
render. By  their  valiant  resistance,  however, 
they  obtained  highly  honorable  terms,  securing 
for  the  inhabitants  of  Rochelle  the  free  exercise 
of  their  religion  within  the  walls  of  the  city, 
and  a  general  act  of  amnesty  for  all  the  Prot- 
estants in  the  realm. 

Immediately  after  this  event,  Henry,  the  broth- 
er of  Charles  IX.,  was  elected  King  of  Poland, 
an  honor  which  he  attained  in  consequence  of 
the  military  prowess  he  had  displayed  in  the 
wars  against  the  Protestants  of  France.  Ac- 
companied by  his  mother,  Catharine  de  Medici, 
the  young  monarch  set  out  for  his  distant  do- 


168  KING   HENRY  IV. 

Henry's  journey  through  Germany. 

minions.  Henry  had  been  a  very  active  agent 
in  the  Massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew.  At  Lor- 
raine Catharine  took  leave  of  him,  and  he  went 
on  his  way  in  a  very  melancholy  mood.  His 
election  had  been  secured  by  the  greatest  efforts 
of  intrigue  and  bribery  on  the  part  of  his  moth- 
er. The  melancholy  countenances  of  the  Prot- 
estants, driven  into  exile,  and  bewailing  the  mur- 
der of  friends  and  relatives,  whose  assassination 
he  had  caused,  met  him  at  every  turn.  His  re- 
ception at  the  German  courts  was  cold  and  re- 
pulsive. In  the  palace  of  the  Elector  Palatine, 
Henry  beheld  the  portrait  of  Coligni,  who  had 
been  so  treacherously  slaughtered  in  the  Massa- 
cre of  St.  Bartholomew.  The  portrait  was  sus- 
pended in  a  very  conspicuous  place  of  honor, 
and  beneath  it  were  inscribed  the  words, 

"SUCH  WAS  THE  FORMER  COUNTENANCE  OF  THE  HERO 
COLIGNI,  WHO  HAS  BEEN  RENDERED  TRULY  ILLUSTRIOUS 
BOTH  BY  HIS  LIFE  AND  HIS  DEATH." 

The  Protestant  Elector  pointed  out  the  pic- 
ture to  the  young  king,  whom  he  both  hated 
and  despised,  and  coolly  asked  him  if  he  knew 
the  man.  Henry,  not  a  little  embarrassed,  re- 
plied that  he  did. 

"He  was,"  rejoined  the  German  prince,  "the 
most  honest  man,  and  the  wisest  and  the  great- 


DEATH   OF   CHARLES  IX.        169 

Enmity  between  the  two  brothers. 

est  captain  of  Europe,  whose  children  I  keep 
with  me,  lest  the  dogs  of  France  should  tear 
them  as  their  father  has  been  torn." 

Thus  Henry,  gloomy  through  the  repulses 
which  he  was  ever  encountering,  journeyed 
along  to  Poland,  where  he  was  crowned  king, 
notwithstanding  energetic  remonstrances  on  the 
part  of  those  who  execrated  him  for  his  deeds. 
The  two  brothers,  Charles  IX.  and  Henry,  were 
bitter  enemies,  and  Charles  had  declared,  with 
many  oaths,  that  one  of  the  two  should  leave 
the  realm.  Henry  was  the  favorite  of  Catha-. 
rine,  and  hence  she  made  such  efforts  to  secure 
his  safety  by  placing  him  upon  the  throne  of 
Poland.  She  was  aware  that  the  feeble  Charles 
would  not  live  long,  and  when,  with  tears,  she 
took  leave  of  Henry,  she  assured  him  that  he 
would  soon  return. 

The  outcry  of  indignation  which  the  Massa- 
cre of  St.  Bartholomew  called  forth  from  com- 
bined Europe  fell  like  the  knell  of  death  on  the 
ear  of  the  depraved  arid  cowardly  Charles.  Dis- 
ease began  to  ravage,  with  new  violence,  his  ex- 
hausted frame.  He  became  silent,  morose,  ir- 
ritable, and  gloomy.  He  secluded  himself  from 
all  society,  and  surrendered  himself  to  the  do- 
minion of  remorse.  He  was  detested  by  the 


170  KING   HENRY  IV. 


Sickness  of  Charles  IX. 


Protestants,  and  utterly  despised  by  the  Cath- 
olics. A  bloody  sweat,  oozing  from  every  pore, 
crimsoned  his  bed-clothes.  His  occasional  out- 
cries of  remorse  and  his  aspect  of  misery  drove 
all  from  his  chamber  excepting  those  who  were 
compelled  to  render  him  service.  He  groaned 
and  wept  incessantly,  exclaiming, 

"  Oh,  what  blood !  oh,  what  murders !  Alas  ! 
why  did  I  follow  such  evil  counsels  ?" 

He  saw  continually  the  spectres  of  the  slain, 
with  ghastly,  gory  wounds,  stalking  about  his 
bed ;  and  demons  of  hideous  aspect,  and  with 
weapons  of  torture  in  their  hands,  with  horrid 
and  derisive  malice,  were  impatiently  waiting  to 
seize  his  soul  the  moment  it  should  pass  from 
the  decaying  body. 

The  day  before  his  death  he  .lay  for  some 
time  up6n  his  bed  in  perfect  silence.  Sudden- 
ly starting  up,  he  exclaimed, 

"Call  my  brother.'' 

His  mother,  who  was  sitting  by  his  side,  di- 
rected an  attendant  to  call  his  brother  Francis, 
the  Duke  of  Alen9on. 

"No,  not  him,"  the  king  replied ;  "my  broth- 
er, the  King  of  Navarre,  I  mean." 

Henry  of  Navarre  was  then  detained  in 
princely  imprisonment  in  the  court  of  Catha- 


DEATH   OF   CHAKLES   IX.        171 


Remorse  of  the  king. 


rine.  He  had  made  many  efforts  to  escape,  but 
all  had  been  unavailing. 

Catharine  directed  that  Henry  should  be  call- 
ed. In  order  to  intimidate  him,  and  thus  to 
prevent  him  from  speaking  with  freedom  and 
boldness  to  her  dying  son,  she  ordered  him  to 
be  brought  through  the  vaults  of  the  castle,  be- 
tween a  double  line  of  armed  guards.  Henry, 
as  he  descended  into  those  gloomy  dungeons, 
and  saw  the  glittering  arms  of  the  soldiers,  felt 
that  the  hour  for  his  assassination  had  arrived. 
He,  however,  passed  safely  through,  and  Was 
ushered  into  the  chamber  of  his  brother-in-law 
and  former  playfellow,  the  dying  king.  Charles 
IX.,  subdued  by  remorse  and  appalled  by  ap- 
proaching death,  received  him  with  gentleness 
and  affection,  and  weeping  profusely,  embraced 
him  as  he  knelt  by  his  bedside. 

"My  brother,"  said  the  dying  king,  "you 
lose  a  good  master  and  a  good  friend.  I  know 
that  you  are  not  the  cause  of  the  troubles  which 
have  come  upon  me.  If  I  had  believed  all 
which  has  been  told  me,  you  would  not  now 
have  been  living ;  but  I  have  always  loved  you." 
Then  turning  his  eyes  to  the  queen  mother,  he 
said  energetically,  "  Do  not  trust  to —  Here 
Catharine  hastily  interrupted  him,  and  prevent- 


172  KING   HENRY  IV. 

Death  of  Charles  IX.  Chateaubriand. 

ed  the  finishing  of  the  sentence  with  the  words 
"  my  'mother.'1'' 

Charles  designated  his  brother  Henry,  the 
King  of  Poland,  as  his  successor.  He  express- 
ed the  earnest  wish  that  neither  his  younger 
brother,  Francis,  the  Duke  of  Alencon,  nor  Hen- 
ry, would  disturb  the  repose  of  the  realm.  The 
next  night,  as  the  Cathedral  clock  was  tolling 
the  hour  of  twelve,  the  nurse,  who  was  sitting, 
with  two  watchers,  at  the  bedside  of  the  dying 
monarch,  heard  him  sighing  and  moaning,  and 
then  convulsively  weeping.  Gently  she  ap- 
proached the  bed  and  drew  aside  the  curtains. 
Charles  turned  his  dimmed  and  despairing  eye 
upon  her,  and  exclaimed, 

"  Oh,  my  nurse !  my  nurse !  what  blood 
have  I  shed!  what  murders  have  I  committed! 
Great  God!  pardon  me — pardon  me!" 

A  convulsive  shuddering  for  a  moment  agi- 
tated his  frame,  his  head  fell  back  upon  his 
pillow,  and  the  wretched  man  was  dead.  He 
died  at  twenty-four  years  of  age,  expressing 
satisfaction  that  he  left  no  heir  to  live  and  to 
suffer  in  a  world  so  full  of  misery.  In  reference 
to  this  guilty  king,  Chateaubriand  says, 

"  Should  we  not  have  some  pity  for  this  mon- 
arch of  twenty-three  years,  born  with  fine  tal- 


DEATH  OF   CHARLES  IX.       173 

Character  of  the  king.  Henry  III. 

ents,  a  taste  for  literature  and  the  arts,  a  char- 
acter naturally  generous,  whom  an  execrable 
mother  had  tried  to  deprave  by  all  the  abuses 
of  debauchery  and  power  ?" 

"Yes,"  warmly  responds  G.  de  Felice,  "we 
will  have  compassion  for  him,  with  the  Hugue- 
nots themselves,  whose  fathers  he  ordered  to  be 
slain,  and  who,  with  a  merciful  hand,  would 
wipe  away  the  blood  which  covers  his  face  to 
find  still  something  human." 

Henry,  his  brother,  who  was  to  succeed  him 
upon  the  throne,  was  then  in  Poland.  Catha- 
rine was  glad  to  have  the  pusillanimous  Charles 
out  of  the  way.  He  was  sufficiently  depraved 
to  commit  any  crime,  without  being  sufficiently 
resolute  to  brave  its  penalty.  Henry  III.  had, 
in  early  life,  displayed  great  vigor  of  character. 
At  the  age  of  fifteen  he  had  been  placed  in  the 
command  of  armies,  and  in  several  combats  had 
defeated  the  veteran  generals  of  the  Protestant 
forces.  His  renown  had  extended  through  Eu- 
rope, and  had  contributed  much  in  placing  him 
on  the  elective  throne  of  Poland.  Catharine, 
by  the  will  of  the  king,  was  appointed  regent 
until  the  return  of  Henry.  She  immediately 
dispatched  messengers  to  recall  the  King  of  Po- 
land. In  the  mean  time,  she  kept  Henry  of  Na- 


174  KING   HENRY  IV. 

The  stratagem.  Flight  from  the  crowi. 

varre  and  her  youngest  son,  the  Duke  ot  Aleri- 
con,  in  close  captivity,  and  watched  them  with 
the  greatest  vigilance,  that  they  might  make  no 
movements  toward  the  throne. 

Henry  was  by  this  time  utterly  weary  of  his 
Polish  crown,  and  sighed  for  the  voluptuous 
pleasures  of  Paris.  The  Poles  were  not  willing 
that  their  king  should  leave  the  realm,  as  it 
might  lead  to  civil  war  in  the  choice  of  a  suc- 
cessor. Henry  was  compelled  to  resort  to  strat- 
agem to  effect  his  escape.  A  large  and  splen- 
did party  was  invited  to  the  palace.  A  wil- 
derness of  rooms,  brilliantly  illuminated,  Avere 
thrown  open  to  the  guests.  Masked  dancers 
walked  the  floor  in  every  variety  of  costume. 
Wine  and  wassail  filled  the  halls  with  revelry. 
When  all  were  absorbed  in  music  and  mirth, 
the  king,  by  a  private  passage,  stole  from  the 
palace,  and  mounting  a  swift  horse,  which  was 
awaiting  him  in  the  court-yard,  accompanied  by 
two  or  three  friends,  commenced  his  flight  from 
his  crown  and  his  Polish  throne.  Through  the 
long  hours  of  the  night  they  pressed  their  horses 
to  their  utmost  speed,  and  when  the  morning 
dawned,  obtaining  fresh  steeds,  they  hurried  on 
their  way,  tarrying  not  for  refreshment  or  repose 
until  they  had  passed  the  frontiers  of  the  king- 


DEATH  OF   CHARLES   IX.        175 

The  sojourn  in  Italy.  The  three  Henrys. 

dom.  Henry  was  afraid  to  take  the  direct  route 
through  the  Protestant  states  of  Germany,  for 
the  Massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew  was  still  bit- 
terly remembered.  He  therefore  took  a  circui- 
tous route  through  Italy,  and  arrived  at  Venice 
in  August.  In  sunny  Italy  he  lingered  for 
some  time,  surrendering  himself  to  every  ener- 
vating indulgence,  and  even  bartering  the  for- 
tresses of  France  to  purchase  the  luxuries  in  the 
midst  of  which  he  was  reveling.  At  last,  sated 
with  guilty  pleasure,  he  languidly  turned  his 
steps  toward  Paris. 

There  were  now  three  Henrys,  who  had  been 
companions  in  childhood,  who  were  at  the  head 
of  the  three  rival  houses  of  Valois,  of  Bourbon, 
and  of  Guise.  One  of  these  was  King  of  France. 
One  was  King  of  Navarre.  But  Henry  of  Guise 
was,  in  wealth  and  in  the  attachment  of  the 
Catholic  population  of  France,  superior  to  ei- 
ther. The  war  which  ensued  is  sometimes  call- 
ed The  War  of  the  three  Henrys. 

As  soon  as  his  mother  learned  that  he  was 
approaching  France,  she  set  out  from  Paris  with 
a  magnificent  retinue  to  meet  her  pet  child,  tak- 
ing with  her  his  brother,  the  Duke  of  Alen9on, 
and  Henry  of  Navarre.  Dissipation  had  im- 
paired the  mental  as  well  as  the  physical  ener- 


176  KING   HENRY  IV. 

Marriage  of  Henry  III.  The  Duke  of  Alenfon. 

gies  of  the  king,  and  a  maudlin  good-nature  had 
absorbed  all  his  faculties.  He  greeted  his  broth- 
er and  his  brother-in-law  with  much  kindness, 
and  upon  receiving  their  oaths  of  obedience, 
withdrew  much  of  the  restraint  to  which  they 
previously  had  been  subjected.  Henry  was 
now  known  as  Henry  III.  of  France.  Soon 
after  his  coronation  he  married  Louisa  of  Lor- 
raine, a  daughter  of  one  of  the  sons  of  the  Duke 
of  Guise.  She  was  a  pure-minded  and  lovely 
woman,  and  her  mild  and  gentle  virtues  con- 
trasted strongly  with  the  vulgarity,  coarseness, 
and  vice  of  her  degraded  husband. 

The  Duke  of  Alenpon  was,  however,  by  no 
means  appeased  by  the  kindness  with  which  he 
had  been  received  by  his  brother  the  king.  He 
called  him  the  robber  of  his  crown,  and  formed 
a  conspiracy  for  attacking  the  carriage  of  his 
brother  and  putting  him  to  death.  The  plot 
was  revealed  to  the  king.  He  called  his  brother 
to  his  presence,  reproached  him  with  his  perfi- 
dy and  ingratitude,  but  generously  forgave  him. 
But  the  heart  of  Alen9on  was  impervious  to  any 
appeals  of  generosity  or  of  honor.  Upon  the 
death  of  Henry  III.,  the  Duke  of  Alencon,  his 
only  surviving  brother,  would  ascend  the  throne. 

The  Duke  of  Guise  hated  with  implacable 


DEATH  OF   CHARLES   IX.        177 

Suspicions  of  poison.  Invectives  of  the  king. 

rancor  the  Duke  of  Alencon,  and  even  proffered 
his  aid  to  place  Henry  of  Navarre  upon  the 
throne  in  the  event  of  the  death  of  the  king, 
that  he  might  thus  exclude  his  detested  rival. 
Francis,  the  Duke  of  Alencon,  was  impatient  to 
reach  the  crown,  and  again  formed  a  plot  to  poi- 
son his  brother.  The  king  was  suddenly  taken 
very  ill.  He  declared  his  brother  had  poisoned 
him.  As  each  succeeding  day  his  illness  grew 
more  severe,  and  the  probabilities  became  stron- 
ger of  its  fatal  termination,  Francis  assumed  an 
air  of  haughtiness  and  of  authority,  as  if  confi- 
dent that  the  crown  was  already  his  own.  The 
open  exultation  which  he  manifested  in  view  of 
the  apparently  dying  condition  of  his  brother 
Henry  confirmed  all  in  the  suspicion  that  he 
had  caused  poison  to  be  administered. 

Henry  III.,  believing  his  death  inevitable, 
called  Henry  of  Navarre  to  his  bedside,  and 
heaping  the  bitterest  invectives  upon  his  broth- 
er Francis,  urged  Henry  of  Navarre  to  procure 
his  assassination,  and  thus  secure  for  himself 
the  vacant  throne.  Henry  of  Navarre  was  the 
next  heir  to  the  throne  after  the  Duke  of  Alen- 
9on,  and  the  dying  king  most  earnestly  urged 
Henry  to  put  the  duke  to  death,  showing  him 
the  ease  with  which  it  could  be  done,  and  assur- 
13—12 


178  KING   HENRY   IV. 

Recovery  of  the  king.  Disappointment  of  Francis. 


ing  him  that  he  would  be  abundantly  supported 
by  all  the  leading  nobles  of  the  kingdom.  While 
this  scene  was  taking  place  at  the  sick-bed  of  the 
monarch,  Francis  passed  through  the  chamber 
of  his  brother  without  deigning  to  notice  either 
him  or  the  King  of  Navarre.  Strongly  as  Hen- 
ry of  Navarre  was  desirous  of  securing  for  him- 
self the  throne  of  France,  he  was  utterly  incapa- 
ble of  meditating  even  upon  such  a  crime,  and 
he  refused  to  give  it  a  second  thought. 

To  the  surprise  of  all,  the  king  recovered,  and 
Francis  made  no  efforts  to  conceal  his  disap- 
pointment. There  were  thousands  of  armed  in- 
surgents ready  at  any  moment  to  rally  around 
the  banner  of  the  Duke  of  Aler^on,  for  they 
would  thus  be  brought  into  positions  of  emolu- 
ment and  power.  The  king,  who  was  ready 
himself  to  act  the  assassin,  treated  his  assassin- 
brother  with  the  most  profound  contempt.  No 
description  can  convey  an  adequate  idea  of  the 
state  of  France  at  this  time.  Universal  anar- 
chy prevailed.  Civil  war,  exasperated  by  the 
utmost  rancor,  was  raging  in  nearly  all  the  prov- 
inces. Assassinations  were  continually  occur- 
ring. Female  virtue  was  almost  unknown,  and 
the  most  shameful  licentiousness  filled  the  cap- 
ital. The  treasury  was  so  utterly  exhausted 


DEATH   OF   CHARLES  IX. 


Fanaticism  of  the  king.  Escape  of  the  Duke  of  Alonfon. 

that,  in  a  journey  made  by  the  king  and  his  reti- 
nue in  mid-winter,  the  pages  were  obliged  to  sell 
their  cloaks  to  obtain  a  bare  subsistence.  The 
king,  steeped  in  pollution,  a  fanatic  and  a  hypo- 
crite, exhibited  himself  to  his  subjects  bare- 
headed, barefooted,  and  half  naked,  scourging 
himself  with  a  whip,  reciting  his  prayers,  and 
preparing  the  way,  by  the  most  ostentatious 
penances,  to  plunge  anew  into  every  degrading 
sensual  indulgence.  He  was  thoroughly  de- 
spised by  his  subjects,  and  many  were  anxious 
to  exchange  him  for  the  reckless  and  impetu- 
ous, but  equally  depraved  Francis. 

The  situation  of  the  Duke  of  Alei^on  was 
now  not  only  very  uncomfortable,  but  exceed- 
ingly perilous.  The  king  did  every  thing  in  his 
power  to  expose  him  to  humiliations,  and  was 
evidently  watching  for  an  opportunity  to  put 
him  to  death,  either  by  the  dagger  or  by  a  cup 
of  poison.  The  duke,  aided  by  his  profligate 
sister  Marguerite,  wife  of  Henry  of  Navarre, 
formed  a  plan  for  escape. 

One  dark  evening  he  wrapped  himself  in  a 
large  cloak,  and  issued  forth  alone  from  the  Lou- 
vre. Passing  through  obscure  streets,  he  ar- 
rived at  the  suburbs  of  the  city,  where  a  car- 
riage with  trusty  attendants  was  in  waiting. 


180  KING   HENRY  IV. 

The  king  aroused.  War  of  the  public  good. 

Driving  as  rapidly  as  possible,  he  gained  the 
open  country,  and  then  mounting  a  very  fleet 
charger,  which  by  previous  appointment  was  pro- 
vided for  him,  he  spurred  his  horse  at  the  ut- 
most speed  for  many  leagues,  till  lie  met  an  es- 
cort of  three  hundred  men,  with  whom  he  took 
refuge  in  a  fortified  town.  His  escape  was  not 
known  in  the  palace  until  nine  o'clock  the  next 
morning.  Henry  was  exceedingly  agitated  when 
he  received  the  tidings,  for  he  knew  that  his  en- 
ergetic and  reckless  brother  would  join  the  Prot- 
estant party,  carrying  with  him  powerful  influ- 
ence, and  thus  add  immeasurably  to  the  distrac- 
tions which  now  crowded  upon  the  king. 

For  once,  imminent  peril  roused  Henry  III. 
to  vigorous  action.  He  forgot  his  spaniels,  his 
parrots,  his  monkeys,  and  even  his  painted  con- 
cubines, arid  roused  himself  to  circumvent  the 
plans  of  his  hated  rival.  Letter  after  letter  was 
sent  to  all  the  provinces,  informing  the  govern- 
ors of  the  flight  of  the  prince,  and  commanding 
the  most  vigorous  efforts  to  secure  his  arrest. 
Francis  issued  a  proclamation  declaring  the  rea- 
sons for  his  escape,  and  calling  upon  the  Prot- 
estants and  all  who  loved  the  "  public  good"  tc 
rally  around  him.  Hence  the  short  but  merci- 
less war  which  ensued  was  called  "  the  war  of 
tiie  public  good." 


DEATH   OF  CHARLES   IX.        181 

Defeat  of  Guise.  Perplexity  of  Catharine. 

The  Duke  of  Alencon  was  now  at  the  head 
of  a  powerful  party,  for  he  had  thrown  himself 
into  the  arms  of  the  Protestants,  and  many  of 
his  Catholic  partisans  followed  him.  Henry 
III.  called  to  his  aid  the  fearless  and  energetic 
Duke  of  Guise,  and  gave  him  the  command  of 
his  armies.  In  the  first  terrible  conflict  which 
ensued  Guise  was  defeated,  and  received  a  hid- 
eous gash  upon  his  face,  which  left  a  scar  of 
which  he  was  very  proud  as  a  signet  of  valor. 

Catharine  was  now  in  deep  trouble.  Her  two 
.sons  were  in  open  arms  against  each  other,  head- 
ing powerful  forces,  and  sweeping  France  with 
whirlwinds  of  destruction.  Henry  of  Navarre 
was  still  detained  a  prisoner  in  the  French  court, 
though  surrounded  by  all  the  luxuries  and  in> 
dulgences  of  the  capital.  The  dignity  of  his 
character,  and  his  great  popularity,  alarmed 
Catharine,  lest,  in  the  turmoil  of  the  times,  he 
should  thrust  both  of  her  sons  from  the  throne, 
and  grasp  the  crown  himself.  Henry  and  his 
friends  all  became  fully  convinced  that  Catha- 
rine entertained  designs  upon  his  life.  Margue- 
rite was  fully  satisfied  that  it  was  so,  and,  bad 
as  she  was,  as  Henry  interfered  not  in  the  slight- 
est degree  with  any  of  her  practices,  she  felt  a 
certain  kind  of  regard  for  him.  The  guards 


182  KING   HEXRY  IV. 

The  guard  of  honor.  1'lan  of  escape. 

who  had  been  assigned  to  Henry  professedly  as 
a  mark  of  honor,  and  to  add  to  the  splendor  of 
his  establishment,  were  in  reality  his  jailers, 
who  watched  him  with  an  eagle  eye.  They 
were  all  zealous  Papists,  and  most  of  them,  in 
the  Massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew,  had  dipped 
their  hands  deep  in  Protestant  blood.  Catha- 
rine watched  him  with  unceasing  vigilance,  and 
crowded  every  temptation  upon  him  which  could 
enervate  and  ruin.  Her  depravity  did  but  stim- 
ulate her  woman's  shrewdness  and  tact. 

Henry  of  Navarre  sighed  for  liberty.  He  was, 
however,  so  closely  guarded  that  escape  seemed 
impossible.  At  last  the  following  plan  was 
formed  for  flight.  A  hunting-party  was  got  up. 
Henry  was  to  invite  persons  to  attend  the  chase 
in  whose  fidelity  he  could  repose  confidence, 
while  one  only  was  to  be  intrusted  with  the 
secret.  Others  of  his  friends  were  secretly  to 
resort  to  an  appointed  rendezvous  with  fresh 
horses,  and  all  well  armed  and  in  sufficient  num- 
bers to  overpower  the  guard  placed  about  his 
person.  Henry  was  to  press  on  in  the  chase 
with  the  utmost  eagerness  until  the  horses  of 
the  guard  were  completely  exhausted,  when  his 
friends  with  the  fresh  steeds  were  to  appear, 
rescue  him  from  the  guards,  and  accompany  him 


DEATH   OF   CHARLES   IX.        183 

Successful  artifice.  The  false  rumor. 

in  his  flight.  The  guards,  being  drawn  far  from 
the  palace,  could  not  speedily  obtain  fresh  horses, 
neither  could  they  pursue  him  with  their  jaded 
animals. 

The  Duke  of  Guise  was  now  in  great  favor 
with  Henry  III.  Henry  of  Navarre,  during  the 
few  days  in  which  he  was  making  preparation 
for  his  flight,  blinded  the  eagle  eyes  of  the  duke 
by  affecting  great  confidence  that  he  should  ob- 
tain from  the  king  the  high  office  of  Lieutenant 
General  of  France.  The  duke  and  Henry  III. 
made  themselves  very  merry  over  this  supposed 
simplicity  of  Henry  of  Navarre,  little  aware  that 
he  was  making  himself  equally  merry  at  their 
expense. 

Two  days  before  the  execution  of  the  schemer 
a  rumor  spread  through  the  court  that  Henry 
had  escaped.  For  a  short  time  great  anxiety 
and  confusion  ensued.  Henry,  being  informed 
of  the  report  and  of  the  agitation  which  filled 
the  palace,  hastened  to  the  apartments  where 
Catharine  and  the  king  were  in  deliberation,  and 
laughingly  told  them  that  he  had  arrested  the 
King  of  Navarre,  and  that  he  now  surrendered 
him  to  them  for  safe  keeping. 

In  the  morning  of  the  day  fixed  for  his  flight, 
the  King  of  Navarre  held  a  long  and  familiar 


184  KING   HENRY   IV. 

Escape  accomplished.  Trouble  of  the  Duke  of  Alencon. 

conversation  with  the  Duke  of  Guise,  and  urged 
him  to  accompany  him  to  the  hunt.  Just  as 
the  moment  arrived  for  the  execution  of  the 
plot,  it  was  betrayed  to  the  king  by  the  treach- 
ery of  a  confederate.  Notwithstanding  this  be- 
trayal, however,  matters  were  so  thoroughly  ar- 
ranged that  Henry,  after  several  hair-breadth 
escapes  from  arrest,  accomplished  his  flight. 
His  apprehension  was  so  great  that  for  sixty 
miles  he  rode  as  rapidly  as  possible,  without 
speaking  a  word  or  stopping  for  one  moment 
except  to  mount  a  fresh  horse.  He  rode  over 
a  hundred  miles  on  horseback  that  day,  and  took 
refuge  in  Alen£on,  a  fortified  city  held  by  the 
Protestants.  As  soon  as  his  escape  was  known, 
thousands  of  his  friends  flocked  around  him. 

The  Duke  of  Alen9on  was  not  a  little  troub- 
led at  the  escape  of  the  King  of  Navarre,  for  he 
was  well  aware  that  the  authority  he  had  ac- 
quired among  the  Protestants  would  be  lost  by 
the  presence  of  one  so  much  his  superior  in  ev- 
ery respect,  and  so  much  more  entitled  to  the 
confidence  of  the  Protestants.  Thus  the  two 
princes  remained  separate,  but  ready,  in  case  of 
emergence,  to  unite  their  forces,  which  now 
amounted  to  fifty  thousand  men.  Henry  of 
Navarre  soon  established  his  head-quarters  on 


DEATH   OF   CHARLES   IX.        185 

Terms  of  settlement.  Paix  de  Monsieur. 

the  banks  of  the  Loire,  where  every  day  fresh 
parties  of  Protestants  were  joining  his  standard. 
Henry  III.,  with  no  energy  of  character,  de- 
spised by  his  subjects,  and  without  either  money 
or  armies,  seemed  to  be  now  entirely  at  the  mer- 
cy of  the  confederate  princes.  Henry  of  Na- 
varre and  the  Duke  of  Alencon  sent  an  embas- 
sador  to  the  French  court  to  propose  terms  to 
Henry  III.  The  King  of  Navarre  required, 
among  other  conditions,  that  France  should  unite 
with  him  in  recovering  from  Spain  that  portion 
of  the  territory  of  Navarre  which  had  been  wrest- 
ed from  his  ancestors  by  Ferdinand  and  Isabel- 
la. While  the  proposed  conditions  of  peace 
were  under  discussion,  Catharine  succeeded  in 
bribing  her  son,  the  Duke  of  Alen9on,  to  aban- 
don the  cause  of  Henry  of  Navarre.  A  treaty 
of  peace  was  then  concluded  with  the  Protest- 
ants ;  and  by  a  royal  edict,  the  full  and  free  ex- 
ercise of  the  Protestant  religion  was  guaranteed 
in  every  part  of  France  except  Paris  and  a  cir- 
cle twelve  miles  in  diameter  around  the  capital. 
As  a  bribe  to  the  Duke  of  Alen9on,  he  was  in- 
vested with  sovereign  power  over  the  three  most 
important  provinces  of  the  realm,  with  an  an- 
nual income  of  one  hundred  thousand  crowns. 
This  celebrated  treaty,  called  the  Paix  de  Mon- 


186  KING   HENRY   IV.          [1576. 

Duke  of  Anjou.  Arrival  at  Bochello. 

sieur,  because  concluded  under  the  auspices  of 
Francis,  the  brother  of  the  king,  was  signed  at 
Chastenoy  the  sixth  of  May,  1576. 

The  ambitious  and  perfidious  duke  now  as- 
sumed the  title  of  the  Duke  of  Anjou,  and  en- 
tirely separated  himself  from  the  Protestants. 
He  tried  to  lure  the  Prince  of  Conde,  the  cousin 
and  devoted  friend  of  Henry  of  Navarre,  to  ac- 
company him  into  the  town  of  Bourges.  The 
prince,  suspecting  treachery,  refused  the  invita- 
tion, saying  that  some  rogue  would  probably 
be  found  in  the  city  who  would  send  a  bullet 
through  his  head. 

"  The  rogue  would  be  hanged,  I  know,"  he 
added,  "but  the  Prince  of  Conde  would  be  dead. 
I  will  not  give  you  occasion,  my  lord,  to  hang 
rogues  for  love  of  me." 

He  accordingly  took  his  leave  of  the  Duke 
of  Alen9on,  and,  putting  spurs  to  his  horse,  with 
fifty  followers  joined  the  King  of  Navarre. 

Henry  was  received  with  royal  honors  in  the 
Protestant  town  of  Rochelle,  where  he  publicly 
renounced  the  Roman  Catholic  faith,  declaring 
that  he  had  assented  to  that  faith  from  compul- 
sion, and  as  the  only  means  of  saving  his  life. 
He  also  publicly  performed  penance  for  the  sin 
which  he  declared  that  he  had  thus  been  com' 
Belled  to  commit. 


DEATH   OF  CHARLES   IX.        187 

Conduct  of  Catharine  and  Henry  III. 

Catharine  and  Henry  III.,  having  detached 
Francis,  who  had  been  the  Duke  of  Alen9on,  but 
who  was  now  the  Duke  of  Anjou,frorn  the  Prot- 
estants, no  longer  feigned  any  friendship  or  even 
toleration  for  that  cause.  They  acted  upon  the 
principle  that  no  faith  was  to  be  kept  with  her- 
etics. The  Protestants,  notwithstanding  the 
treaty,  were  exposed  to  every  species  of  insult 
and  injury.  The  Catholics  were  determined 
that  the  Protestant  religion  should  not  be  tol- 
erated in  France,  and  that  all  who  did  not  con- 
form to  the  Church  of  Rome  should  either  per- 
ish or  be  driven  from  the  kingdom.  Many  of 
the  Protestants  were  men  of  devoted  piety,  who 
cherished  their  religious  convictions  more  tena- 
ciously than  life.  There  were  others,  however, 
who  joined  them  merely  from  motives  of  polit- 
ical ambition.  Though  the  Protestant  party, 
in  France  itself,  was  comparatively  small,  the 
great  mass  of  the  population  being  Catholics, 
yet  the  party  was  extremely  influential  from  the 
intelligence  and  the  rank  of  its  leaders,  and  from 
the  unconquerable  energy  with  which  all  of  its 
members  were  animated. 

The  weak  and  irresolute  king  was  ever  vacil- 
lating between  the  two  parties.  The  Duke  of 
Guise  was  the  great  idol  of  the  Catholics.  Hen- 


188  KING  HENRY   IV. 

Complexity  of  politics.  Francis  and  Queen  Elizabeth. 

ry  of  Navarre  was  the  acknowledged  leader  of 
the  Protestants.  The  king  feared  them  both. 
It  was  very  apparent  that  Henry  III.  could 
not  live  long.  At  his  death  his  brother  Fran- 
cis, Duke  of  Anjou,  would  ascend  the  throne. 
Should  he  die  childless,  Henry  of  Navarre  would 
be  his  lawful  successor.  But  the  Catholics 
would  be  horror-stricken  at  the  idea  of  seeing  a 
heretic  on  the  throne.  The  Duke  of  Guise  was 
laying  his  plans  deep  and  broad  to  array  all  the 
Catholic  population  of  France  in  his  own  favor, 
and  thus  to  rob  the  Protestant  prince  of  his 
rights.  Henry  III.,  Henry  of  Navarre,  Henry, 
Duke  of  Guise,  and  Francis,  Duke  of  Anjou, 
had  all  been  playmates  in  childhood  and  class- 
mates at  school.  They  were  now  heading  ar- 
mies, and  struggling  for  the  prize  of  the  richest 
crown  in  Europe. 

Francis  was  weary  of  waiting  for  his  brother 
to  die.  To  strengthen  himself,  he  sought  in 
marriage  the  hand  of  Queen  Elizabeth  of  En- 
gland. Though  she  had  no  disposition  to  re- 
ceive a  husband,  she  was  ever  very  happy  to  be 
surrounded  by  lovers.  She  consequently  play- 
ed the  coquette  with  Francis  until  he  saw  that 
there  was  no  probability  of  the  successful  term- 
ination of  his  suit.  Francis  returned  to  Paris 


DEATH   OF   CHARLES   IX.        189 


New  assaults  on  the  Protestants. 


bitterly  disappointed,  and  with  new  zeal  conse- 
crated his  sword  to  the  cause  of  the  Catholics. 
Had  Elizabeth  accepted  his  suit,  he  would  then 
most  earnestly  have  espoused  the  cause  of  the 
Protestants. 

Henry  III.  now  determined  to  make  a  vigor- 
ous effort  to  crush  the  Protestant  religion.  He 
raised  large  armies,  and  gave  the  commanjl  to 
the  Duke  of  Anjou,  the  Duke  of  Guise,  and  to 
the  brother  of  the  Duke  of  Guise,  the  Duke  of 
Mayenne.  Henry  of  Navarre,  encountering  fear- 
ful odds,  was  welcomed  by  acclamation  to  head 
the  small  but  indomitable  band  of  Protestants, 
now  struggling,  not  for  liberty  only,  but  for  life. 
The  king  was  very  anxious  to  get  Henry  of 
Navarre  again  in  his  power,  and  sent  most  flat- 
tering messages  and  most  pressing  invitations 
to  lure  him  again  to  his  court ;  but  years  of 
captivity  had  taught  a  lesson  of  caution  not 
soon  to  be  forgotten. 

Again  hideous  war  ravaged  France.  The 
Duke  of  Anjou,  exasperated  by  disappointed 
love,  disgraced  himself  by  the  most  atrocious 
cruelties.  He  burned  the  dwellings  of  the  Prot- 
estants, surrendered  unarmed  and  defenseless 
men,  and  women,  and  children  to  massacre. 
The  Duke  of  Guise,  who  had  inflicted  such  an 


190  KING   HENKV   IV. 


Anecdote  of  the  Protestants. 


ineffaceable  stain  upon  his  reputation  by  the 
foul  murder  of  the  Admiral  Coligni,  made  some 
atonement  for  this  shameful  act  by  the  chival- 
rous spirit  with  which  he  endeavored  to  miti- 
gate the  horrors  of  civil  war. 

One  day,  in  the  vicinity  of  Bayonne,  a  party 
of  Catholics,  consisting  of  a  few  hundred  horse 
and  foot,  were  conducting  to  their  execution 
three  Protestant  young  ladies,  who,  for  their 
faith,  were  infamously  condemned  to  death.  As 
they  were  passing  over  a  wide  plain,  covered 
with  broken  woods  and  heath,  they  were  en- 
countered by  a  body  of  Protestants.  A  desper- 
ate battle  immediately  ensued.  The  Protest- 
ants, impelled  by  a  noble  chivalry  as  well  as  by 
religious  fervor,  rushed  upon  their  foes  with  such 
impetuosity  that  resistance  was  unavailing,  and 
the  Catholics  threw  down  their  arms  and  im- 
plored quarter.  Many  of  these  soldiers  were 
from  the  city  of  Dux.  The  leader  of  the  Prot- 
estant band  remembered  that  at  the  Massacre 
of  St.  Bartholomew  all  the  Protestants  in  that 
city  had  been  slain  without  mercy.  With  a 
most  deplorable  want  of  magnanimity,  he  caused 
all  the  prisoners  who  belonged  to  that  place  to 
be  separated  from  the  rest,  and  in  cold  blood 
they  were  slaughtered. 


DEATH   OF   CHARLES  IX.        191 

Gratitude  of  the  citizens  of  Bayonne. 

The  remainder  of  the  prisoners  were  from 
the  city  of  Bayonne,  whose  inhabitants,  though 
Catholics,  had  nobly  refused  to  imbrue  their 
hands  in  the  blood  of  that  horrible  massacre 
which  Charles  IX.  had  enjoined.  To  them, 
after  they  had  seen  their  comrades  surrendered 
to  butchery  before  their  eyes,  he  restored  their 
horses  and  their  arms,  and  gave  them  their  en- 
tire liberty. 

"Go,"  said  he,  "to  your  homes,  and  there 
tell  the  different  treatment  which  I  show  to  sol- 
diers and  to  assassins." 

The  three  ladies,  thus  rescued  from  impend- 
ing death,  were  borne  back  in  triumph  to  their 
friends.  Eight  days  after  this,  a  trumpet  was 
sounded  and  a  flag  of  truce  appeared  emerging 
from  the  gates  of  Bayonne.  The  friends  of  the 
Catholic  soldiers  who  had  been  thus  generously 
restored  sent  a  beautifully  embroidered  scarf 
and  a  handkerchief  to  each  one  of  the  Protest 
ant  soldiers. 

It  is  a  singular  illustration  of  the  blending  of 
the  horrors  of  war  and  the  courtesies  of  peace, 
that  in  the  midst  of  this  sanguinary  conflict, 
Henry  of  Navarre,  accompanied  by  only  six  com- 
panions, accepted  an  invitation  to  a  fete  given 
by  his  enemies  of  the  town  of  Bayonne.  He 


192  KING   HENRY   IV.          [1577. 

Anecilote  of  Henry  of  Navarre.  Another  peace. 

was  received  with  the  utmost  courtesy.  His 
table  was  loaded  with  luxuries.  Voluptuous 
music  floated  upon  the  ear;  songs  and  dances 
animated  the  festive  hours.  Henry  then  return- 
ed to  head  his  army  and  to  meet  his  entertain- 
ers in  the  carnage  of  the  field  of  battle. 

There  was  but  little  repose  in  France  during 
the  year  1577.  Skirmish  succeeded  skirmish, 
and  battle  was  followed  by  battle ;  cities  were 
bombarded,  villages  burned,  fields  ravaged.  All 
the  pursuits  of  industry  were  arrested.  Ruin,, 
beggary,  and  woe  desolated  thousands  of  once 
happy  homes.  Still  the  Protestants  were  un- 
subdued. The  king's  resources  at  length  were 
entirely  exhausted,  and  he  was  compelled  again 
to  conclude  a  treaty  of  peace.  Both  parties  im- 
mediately disbanded  their  forces,  and  the  bless- 
ings of  repose  followed  the  discords  of  war. 

One  of  the  Protestant  generals,  immediately 
upon  receiving  the  tidings  of  peace,  set  out  at 
the  utmost  speed  of  his  horse  to  convey  the  in- 
telligence to  Languedoc,  where  very  numerous 
forces  of  Protestants  and  Catholics  were  prepar- 
ing for  conflict.  He  spurred  his  steed  over  hills 
and  plains  till  he  saw,  gleaming  in  the  rays  of 
the  morning  sun,  the  banners  of  the  embattled 
hosts  arrayed  against  each  other  on  a  vast  plain. 


DEATH    OF   CHARLES  IX,       193 

The  battle  arrested.  Pledge  of  peace. 


The  drums  and  the  trumpets  were  just  beginning 
to  sound  the  dreadful  charge  which  in  a  few 
moments  would  strew  that  plain  with  mangled 
limbs  und  crimson  it  with  blood.  Tae  artillery 
on  the  adjoining  eminences  was  beginning  to 
utter  its  voice  of  thunder,  as  balls,  more  destruct- 
ive than  the  fabled  bolts  of  Jove,  were  thrown 
into  the  massive  columns  marching  to  the  dread- 
ful onset.  A  few  moments  later,  and  the  cry, 
the  uproar,  and  the  confusion  of  the  battle  would 
blind  every  eye  and  deafen  every  ear.  La  Noue* 
almost  frantic  with  the  desire  to  stop  the  need- 
less effusion  of  blood,  at  the  imminent  risk  of 
being  shot,  galloped  between  the  antagonistic  ar- 
mies, waving  energetically  the  white  banner  of 
peace,  and  succeeded  in  arresting  the  battle. 
His  generous  effort  saved  the  lives  of  thousands. 
Henry  III.  was  required,  as  a  pledge  of  his 
sincerity,  to  place  in  the  hands  of  the  Protest- 
ants eight  fortified  cities.  The  Reformers  were 
permitted  to  conduct  public  worship  unmolested 
in  those  places  only  where  it  was  practiced  at 
the  time  .of  signing  the  treaty.  In  other  parts 
of  Frarice  they  were  allowed  to  retain  their  be- 
lief without  persecution,  but  they  were  not  per- 
mitted to  meet  in  any  worshiping  assemblies. 
But  even  these  pledges,  confirmed  by  the  Edict 
13—13 


194  KING    HENRY  IV.          [1597. 

.Morality  in  France.  Disgraceful  fete. 

of  Poitiers  on  the  8th  of  October,  1597,  were 
speedily  broken,  like  all  the  rest. 

But  in  the  midst  of  all  these  conflicts,  while 
every  province  in  France  was  convulsed  with 
civil  war,  the  king,  reckless  of  the  woes  of  his 
subjects,  rioted  in  all  voluptuous  dissipation. 
He  was  accustomed  to  exhibit  himself  to  his 
court  in  those  effeminate  pageants  in  which  he 
found  his  only  joy,  dressed  in  the  flaunting  robes 
of  a  gay  woman,  with  his  bosom  open  and  a 
string  of  pearls  encircling  his  neck.  On  one 
occasion  he  gave  a  fete,  when,  for  the  excitement 
of  novelty,  the  gentlemen,  in  female  robes,  were 
waited  upon  by  the  ladies  of  the  court,  who  were 
dressed  in  male  attire,  or  rather  undressed,  for 
their  persons  were  veiled  by  the  slightest  pos- 
sible clothing.  Such  was  the  corruption  of  the 
court  of  France,  and,  indeed,  of  nearly  the  whole 
realm  in  those  days  of  darkness.  Domestic  pu- 
rity was  a  virtue  unknown.  Law  existed  only 
in  name.  The  rich  committed  any  crimes  with- 
out fear  of  molestation.  In  the  royal  palace 
itself,  one  of  the  favorites  of  the  king,  in  a  par- 
oxysm of  anger,  stabbed  his  wife  and  her  wait- 
ing-maid while  the  unfortunate  lady  was  dress- 
ing. No  notice  whatever  was  taken  of  this 
bloody  deed.  The  murderer  retained  all  his 


DEATH   OF   CHARLES   IX.        195 

Murder  in  the  royal  palace. 

offices  and  honors,  and  it  was  the  general  senti- 
ment of  the  people  of  France  that  the  assassi- 
nation was  committed  by  the  order  of  the  sov- 
ereign, because  the  lady  refused  to  be  entirely 
subservient  to  the  wishes  of  the  dissolute  king. 


196  KING   HENRY  IV. 


Formation  of  the  league. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

/• 

THE  LEAGUE. 

ABOUT  this  time  there  was  formed  the 
celebrated  league  which  occupies  so  con- 
spicuous a  position  in  the  history  of  the  six- 
teenth century.  Henry  III.,  though  conscious 
that  his  throne  was  trembling  beneath  him,  and 
courting  now  the  Catholics  and  again  the  Prot- 
estants, was  still  amusing  himself,  day  after  day, 
with  the  most  contemptible  and  trivial  vices. 
The  extinction  of  the  house  of  Valois  was  evi- 
dently and  speedily  approaching.  Henry  of 
Navarre,  calm,  sagacious,  and  energetic,  was  ral- 
lying around  him  all  the  Protestant  influences 
of  Europe,  to  sustain,  in  that  event,  his  undeni- 
able claim  to  the  throne.  The  Duke  of  Guise, 
impetuous  and  fearless,  hoped,  in  successful 
usurpation,  to  grasp  the  rich  prize  by  rallying 
around  his  banner  all  the  fanatic  energies  of 
Catholic  Europe. 

Henry  III.  was  alike  despised  by  Catholics 
and  Protestants.  His  brother  Francis,  though 
far  more  impulsive,  had  but  few  traits  of  char- 


THE   LEAGUE.  197 

Politics  in  the  pulpit.  The  League. 

acter  to  command  respect.  He  could  summon 
but  a  feeble  band  for  his  support.  Henry  of 
Guise  was  the  available  candidate  for  the  Cath- 
olics. All  the  priestly  influences  of  France  were 
earnestly  combined  to  advance  his  claims.  They 
declared  that  Henry  of  Navarre  had  forfeited 
every  shadow  of  right  to  the  succession  by  be- 
ing a  heretic.  The  genealogy  of  the  illustrious 
house  of  Guise  was  blazoned  forth,  and  its  de- 
scent traced  from  Charlemagne.  It  was  assert- 
ed, and  argued  in  the  pulpit  and  in  the  camp, 
that  even  the  house  of  Valois  had  usurped  the 
crown  which  by  right  belonged  to  the  house  of 
Guise. 

Under  these  circumstances,  the  most  formida- 
ble secret  society  was  organized  the  world  has 
ever  known.  It  assumed  the  name  of  The 
League.  Its  object  was  to  exterminate  Prot- 
estantism, and  to  place  the  Duke  of  Guise  upon 
the.  throne.  The  following  are,  in  brief,  its  cov- 
enant and  oath : 

THE  LEAGUE. 

In  the  name  of  the  Holy  Trinity,  Father, 
Son,  and  Holy  Ghost,  this  League  of  Catholic 
princes,  lords,  and  gentlemen  shall  be  instituted 
to  maintain  the  holy  Catholic,  apostolical,  and 


198  KING   HENKY   IV. 

Object  of  the  League.  The  otth. 

Roman  Church,  abjuring  all  errors  to  the  con- 
trary. Should  opposition  to  this  league  arise 
in  any  quarter,  the  associates  shall  employ  all 
their  goods  and  means,  and  even  their  own  per- 
sons unto  death,  to  punish  and  hunt  down  those 
opposing.  Should  any  of  the  Leaguers,  their 
associates  or  friends,  be  molested,  the  members 
of  the  League  shall  be  bound  to  employ  their 
bodies,  goods,  and  means  to  inflict  vengeance 
upon  those  thus  offending.  Should  any  Leaguer, 
after  having  taken  the  oath,  withdraw  from  the 
association  under  any  pretext  whatever,  the  re- 
fractory member  shall  be  injured,  in  body  and 
goods,  in  every  manner  which  can  be  devised, 
as  enemies  of  God,  rebels,  and  disturbers  of  the 
public  peace.  The  Leaguers  shall  swear  im- 
plicit obedience  to  their  chief,  and  shall  aid  by 
counsel  and  service  in  preserving  the  League, 
and  in  the  ruin  of  all  who  oppose  it.  All  Cath- 
olic towns  and  villages  shall  be  summoned  se- 
cretly, by  their  several  governors,  to  enter  into 
this  League,  and  to  furnish  arms  and  men  for  its 
execution. 

OATH. 

I  swear  by  God  the  Creator,  touching  the 
Evangelists,  and  upon  the  pain  of  eternal  dam- 


THE   LEAGUE.  199 

Influence  of  the  League.  Its  extension. 

nation,  that  I  have  entered  into  this  holy  Cath- 
olic League  loyally  and  sincerely,  either  to  com- 
mand, to  obey,  or  to  serve.  I  promise,  upon 
my  life  and  honor,  to  remain  in  this  League  to 
the  last  drop  of  my  blood,  without  opposing  or 
retiring  upon  any  pretext  whatever. 

Such  was  the  character  of  secret  societies  in 
the  sixteenth  century.  A  more  atrocious  con- 
federacy than  this  the  human  mind  could  hard- 
ly have  conceived.  It  was,  however,  peculiarly 
calculated  to  captivate  the  multitude  in  those 
days  of  darkness  and  blood.  Though  at  first 
formed  and  extended  secretly,  it  spread  like 
wildfire  through  all  the  cities  and  provinces  of 
France.  Princes,  lords,  gentlemen,  artisans, 
and  peasants  rushed  into  its  impious  inclosures. 
The  benighted  populace,  enthralled  by  the  su- 
perstitions of  the  Church,  were  eager  to  mani- 
fest their  zeal  for  God  by  wreaking  the  most 
jiwful  vengeance  upon  heretics.  He  who,  for 
liny  cause,  declined  entering  the  League,  found 
himself  exposed  to  every  possible  annoyance. 
His  house  and  his  barns  blazed  in  midnight 
conflagrations ;  his  cattle  were  mutilated  and 
slain ;  his  wife  and  children  were  insulted  and 
stoned  in  the  streets.  By  day  and  by  night, 


200  KING   HENRY  IV. 

Vast  power  of  the  League.  Alarm  of  the  Protestants. 

asleep  and  awake,  at  home  and  abroad,  at  all 
times  and  every  where,  he  was  annoyed  by  ev- 
ery conceivable  form  of  injury  and  violence. 

Soon  the  League  became  so  powerful  that  no 
farther  secrecy  was  needful.  It  stalked  abroad 
in  open  day,  insulting  its  foes  and  vaunting  its 
invincibility.  The  gigantic  plan  it  unblushing- 
ly  avowed  was  to  exterminate  Protestantism  by 
fire  and  the  sword  from  France ;  then  to  drown 
it  in  blood  in  Holland  ;  then  to  turn  to  England 
and  purify  that  kingdom  from  the  taint  of  her- 
esy ;  then  to  march  upon  Germany ;  and  thus 
to  advance  from  kingdom  to  kingdom,  in  their 
holy  crusade,  until  Protestantism  should  be  ev- 
ery where  ingulfed  in  blood  and  flame,  and  the 
whole  of  Europe  should  be  again  brought  back 
to  the  despotism  of  Rome. 

The  Duke  of  Guise  was  the  soul  of  this  mam- 
moth conspiracy,  though  Philip  II.,  the  bigoted 
King  of  Spain,  was  its  recorded  commander-in- 
chief.  The  Protestants  were  justly  alarmed  by 
the  enormous  energy  of  the  new  power  thus  sud- 
denly evoked  against  them.  The  Pope,  though 
at  first  hostile,  soon,  with  his  cardinals,  espoused 
the  cause  of  the  League,  and  consecrated  to  its 
support  all  the  weapons  which  could  be  wielded 
by  the  Vatican.  From  France,  the  demoniac 


THE  LEAGUE.  201 

Adroit  measures  of  Henry  III. 

organization  spread  through  all  the  kingdoms  of 
Europe.  Hundreds  of  thousands  were  arrayed 
beneath  its  crimson  banner.  Even  Henry  III. 
in  the  Louvre,  surrounded  by  his  parasites  and 
his  concubines,  trembled  as  he  saw  the  shadow 
of  this  fearful  apparition  darkening  his  court. 

He  immediately  perceived  that  he  must  mount 
the  car  or  be  crushed  by  it.  Adroitly  he  leap- 
ed into  the  seat  of  the  charioteer  and  seized  the 
reins.  The  demands  of  the  League  he  adopted 
as  his  own,  and  urged  them  with  energy.  He 
issued  a  proclamation  commending  the  League 
to  his  subjects,  and  announcing  that  he,  to  set 
them  an  example,  had  signed  its  covenant  and 
its  oath.  The  Duke  of  Guise  and  his  followers 
were  quite  bewildered  by  this  unexpected  step. 

The  League  had  demanded  the  assembling 
of  the  States-General,  a  body  somewhat  resem- 
bling the  Congress  of  the  United  States.  The 
king  immediately  summoned  them  to  meet. 
They  declared  war  against  the  Protestants.  The 
king  adopted  the  declaration  as  his  own  decree, 
and  called  loudly  for  supplies  to  prosecute  the 
war  with  vigor.  He  outleagued  the  most  vio- 
lent of  the  Leaguers  in  denunciations  of  the  Prot- 
estants, in  declaring  that  but  one  religion  should 
be  tolerated  in  France,  and  in  clamoring  for 


202  KING   HEXRY  IV. 

Embarrassment  of  the  Leaguers.  Kxcommunication  of  Henry  IV. 

arms  and  munitions  of  war,  that  heresy  might 
be  utterly  extirpated.  The  Leaguers  thus  found, 
to  their  great  perplexity,  the  weapon  which  they 
had  forged  wrested  from  their  hands  and  wield- 
ed against  them.  They  had  organized  to  drive 
the  imbecile  Henry  III.  from  the  throne.  He 
had  seized  upon  that  organization,  and  was  us- 
ing it  to  establish  himself  more  firmly  there. 

The  situation  of  Henry  of  Navarre  was  now 
extremely  critical.  Pope  Sextus  V.,  besides 
giving  the  League  his  Papal  blessing,  had  ful- 
minated against  the  King  of  Navarre  the  awful 
thunders  of  excommunication. 

The  bull  of  excommunication  was  exceeding- 
ly coarse  and  vulgar  in  its  denunciatory  terms, 
calling  the  King  of  Navarre  "  this  bastard  and 
detestable  progeny  of  Bourbons" 

Henry  replied  to  this  assault  in  accents  in- 
trepid and  resolute,  which  caused  Catholic  Eu- 
rope to  stand  aghast. 

"Henry,"  said  this  bold  document,  "by  the 
grace  of  God  King  of  Navarre,  sovereign  prince 
of  Beam,  first  peer  and  prince  of  France,  resists 
the  declaration  and  excommunication  of  Sextus 
V.,  self-styled  Pope  of  Rome,  asserts  it  to  be 
false,  and  maintains  that  Mr.  Sextus,  the  self- 
styled  Pope,  has  falsely  and  maliciously  lied  ; 


1585.]  THE   LEAGUE.  203 

IJold  retort.  Edict  of  Nemours. 

that  he  himself  is  heretic,  which  he  will  prove 
in  any  full  and  free  council  lawfully  assembled ; 
to  which  if  he  do  not  consent  and  submit,  as  he 
is  bound  by  the  canons,  he,  the  King  of  Na- 
varre, holds  and  pronounces  him  to  be  anti- 
Christ  and  heretic,  and  in  that  quality  declares 
against  him  perpetual  and  irreconcilable  war." 

This  energetic  protest  was  placarded  in  most 
of  the  towhs  of  France,  and  by  some  fearless  fol- 
lowers of  the  prince  was  even  attached  to  the 
walls  of  the  Vatican.  The  Pope,  though  at  first 
much  irritated,  had  the  magnanimity  to  express 
his  admiration  of  the  spirit  manifested  by  Henry. 

"  There  are  but  two  princes  in  Europe,"  said 
he,  "  to  whom  I  could  venture  to  communicate 
the  grand  schemes  revolving  in  my  mind,  Hen- 
ry of  Navarre  and  Elizabeth  of  England ;  but, 
unfortunately,  they  are  both  heretics." 

Henry  III.,  having  no  moral  principles  to 
guide  him  in  any  thing,  and  having  no  generous 
affections  of  any  kind,  in  carrying  orft  his  plan 
of  wielding  the  energies  of  the  League  without 
any  scruples  of  conscience,  issued  the  infamous 
Edict  of  Nemours  in  1585,  which  commanded 
every  Protestant  minister  to  leave  the  kingdom 
within  one  month,  and  every  member  of  the  Re- 
formed faith  either  to  abjure  his  religion  and  ac- 


204  KING  HENRY   IV. 

Anguish  of  Henry  of  Navarre.  Death  of  Francis. 

cept  the  Catholic  faith,  or  to  depart  from  France 
within  six  months.  The  penalty  for  disobedi- 
ence in  either  of  these  cases  was  death  and  the 
confiscation  of  property.  This  edict  was  exe- 
cuted with  great  rigor,  and  many  were  burned 
at  the  stake. 

Henry  of  Navarre  was  amazed,  and,  for  a 
time,  overwhelmed  in  receiving  the  news  of  this 
atrocious  decree.  He  clearly  foresaw  that  it 
must  arouse  France  and  all  Europe  to  war,  and 
that  a  new  Iliad  of  woes  was  to  commence. 
Leaning  his  chin  upon  his  hand,  he  was  for  a 
long  time  lost  in  profound  reverie  as  he  pon- 
dered the  awful  theme.  It  is  said  that  his  an- 
guish was  so  intense,  that  when  he  removed  his 
hand  his  beard  and  mustache  on  that  side  were 
turned  entirely  gray. 

But  Henry  rose  with  the  emergence,  and  met 
the  crisis  with  a  degree  of  energy  and  magna- 
nimity which  elicited,  in  those  barbarous  times, 
the  admiration  even  of  his  enemies.  The  Prot- 
estants heroically  grasped  their  arms  and  ral- 
lied together  for  mutual  protection.  War,  with 
all  its  horrors,  was  immediately  resumed. 

Affairs  were  in  this  condition  when  Francis, 
the  Duke  of  Anjou,  was  taken  sick  and  sudden- 
ly died.  This  removed  another  obstruction  from 


THE  LEAGUE.  205 

Redoubled  energies.  Toleration. 

the  field,  and  tended  to  hasten  the  crisis.  Hen- 
ry III.  was  feeble,  exhausted,  and  childless. 
Worn  out  by  shameless  dissipation,  it  was  ev- 
ident to  all  that  he  must  soon  sink  into  his 
grave.  Who  was  to  be  his  successor?  This 
was  the  question,  above  all  others,  which  agi- 
tated France  and  Europe.  Henry  of  Navarre 
was,  beyond  all  question,  legitimately  entitled 
to  the  throne ;  but  he  was,  in  the  estimation  of 
France,  a  heretic.  The  League  consequently, 
in  view  of  the  impending  peril  of  having  a  Prot- 
estant king,  redoubled  its  energies  to  exclude 
him,  and  to  enthrone  their  bigoted  partisan, 
Henry  of  Guise.  It  was  a  terrific  struggle. 
The  Protestants  saw  suspended  upon  its  issue 
their  property,  their  religious  liberty,  their  lives, 
their  earthly  all.  The  Catholics  were  stimu- 
lated by  all  the  energies  of  fanaticism  in  de- 
fense of  the  Church.  All  Catholic  Europe  es- 
poused the  one  side,  all  Protestant  Europe  the 
other.  One  single  Avord  was  enough  to  arrest 
all  these  woes.  That  word  was  TOLERATION. 
When  Henry  III.  published  his  famous  Edict 
of  Nemours,  commanding  the  conversion,  the 
expulsion,  or  the  death  of  the  Protestants,  Hen- 
ry of  Navarre  issued  another  edict  replying  to 
the  calumnies  of  the  League,  and  explaining  his 


206  KING   HENRY   IV. 

The  challenge.  Efforts  to  raise  an  army. 

actions  and  his  motives.  Then  adopting  a  step 
characteristic  of  the  chivalry  of  the  times,  he 
dispatched  a  challenge  to  the  Duke  of  Guise, 
defying  him  to  single  combat,  or,  if  he  objected 
to  that,  to  a  combat  of  two  with  two,  ten  with 
ten,  or  a  hundred  with  a  hundred. 

"In  this  challenge,"  said  Henry,  "I  call 
Heaven  to  witness  that  I  am  not  influenced  by 
any  spirit  of  bravado,  but  only  by  the  desire  of 
deciding  a  quarrel  which  will  otherwise  cost  the 
lives  of  thousands." 

To  this  appeal  the  duke  made  no  reply.  It 
was  by  no  means  for  his  interest  to  meet  on 
equal  terms  those  whom  he  could  easily  out- 
number two  or  three  to  one. 

Though  the  situation  of  Henry  of  Navarre 
seemed  now  almost  desperate,  he  maintained 
his  courage  and  his  hope  unshaken.  His  es- 
tates were  unhesitatingly  sold  to  raise  funds. 
His  friends  parted  with  their  jewels  for  gold  to 
obtain  the  means  to  carry  on  the  war.  But, 
with  his  utmost  efforts,  he  could  raise  an  army 
of  but  four  or  five  thousand  men  to  resist  two 
armies  of  twenty  thousand  each,  headed  by  the 
Duke  of  Guise  and  by  his  brother,  the  Duke  of 
Mayenne.  Fortunately  for  Henry,  there  was 
but  little  military  capacity  in  the  League,  and, 


THE   LEAGUE.  207 

The  Leaguers  baffled.  The  hostile  meeting. 

notwithstanding  their  vast  superiority  in  num- 
bers, they  were  continually  circumvented  in  all 
their  plans  by  the  energy  and  the  valor  of  the 
Protestants. 

The  King  of  France  was  secretly  rejoiced  at 
the  discomfiture  of  the  Leaguers,  yet,  expressing 
dissatisfaction  with  the  Duke  of  Guise,  he  in- 
trusted the  command  of  the  armies  to  one  of  his 
petted  favorites,  Joyeuse,  a  rash  and  fearless 
youth,  who  was  as  prompt  to  revel  in  the  car- 
nage of  the  battle-field  as  in  the  voluptuousness 
of  the  palace.  The  king  knew  not  whether  to 
choose  victory  or  defeat  for  his  favorite.  Vic- 
tory would  increase  the  influence  and  the  renown 
of  one  strongly  attached  to  him,  and  would  thus 
enable  him  more  successfully  to  resist  the  en- 
croachments of  the  Duke  of  Guise.  Defeat 
would  weaken  the  overbearing  power  of  the 
Leaguers,  and  enable  Henry  III.  more  securely 
to  retain  his  position  by  the  balance  of  the  two 
rival  parties.  Joyeuse,  ardent  and  inexperi- 
enced, and  despising  the  feeble  Band  he  was  to 
encounter,  was  eager  to  display  his  prowess.  He 
pressed  eagerly  to  assail  the  King  of  Navarre. 
The  two  armies  met  upon  a  battle-field  a  few 
leagues  from  Bordeaux.  The  army  of  Joyeuse 
was  chiefly  of  gay  and  effeminate  courtiers  and 


208  KING   HENRY  IV.          [1589. 

Appearance  of  the  two  armies.  Tiie  chargn. 

young  nobles,  who  had  too  much  pride  to  lack 
courage,  but  who  possessed  but  little  physical 
vigor,  and  who  were  quite  unused  to  the  hard- 
ships and  to  the  vicissitudes  of  war. 

On  the  morning  of  the  20th  of  October,  1589, 
as  the  sun  rose  over  the  hills  of  Perigord,  the 
two  armies  were  facing  each  other  upon  the  plains 
of  Coutras.  The  Leaguers  were  decked  with  un- 
usual splendor,  and  presented  a  glittering  array, 
with  gorgeous  banners  and  waving  plumes,  and 
uniforms  of  satin  and  velvet  embroidered  by  the 
hands  of  the  ladies  of  the  court.  They  num- 
bered twelve  thousand  men.  Henry  of  Navarre, 
with  admirable  military  skill,  had  posted  his  six 
thousand  hardy  peasants,  dressed  in  tattered 
skins,  to  meet  the  onset. 

And  now  occurred  one  of  the  most  extraor- 
dinary scenes  which  history  has  recorded.  It 
was  a  source  of  constant  grief  to  the  devout 
Protestant  leaders  that  Henry  of  Navarre,  not- 
withstanding his  many  noble  traits  of  character, 
was  not  a  man  of  pure  morality.  Just  before 
the  battle,  Du  Plessis,  a  Christian  and  a  hero, 
approached  the  King  of  Navarre  and  said, 

"  Sire,  it  is  known  to  all  that  you  have  sin- 
ned against  God,  and  injured  a  respectable  citi- 
zen of  Rochelle  by  the  seduction  of  his  daugh- 


THE   LEAGUE.  209 

Penitence  of  Henry  of  Navarre.  Extraordinary  j-cene. 

tor.  We  can  not  hope  that  God  will  bless  our 
arms  in  this  approaching  battle  while  such  a 
sin  remains  unrepented  of  and  unrepaired." 

The  king  dismounted  from  iiis  horse,  and,  un- 
covering his  head,  avowed  in  the  presence  of  the 
whole  army  his  sincere  grief  for  what  he  had 
done  ;  he  called  all  to  witness  that  he  thus  pub- 
licly implored  forgiveness  of  God,  and  of  the 
family  he  had  injured,  and  he  pledged  his  word 
that  he  would  do  every  thing  in  his  power  to  re- 
pair the  wrong. 

The  troops  were  then  called  to  prayers  by  the 
ministers.  Every  man  in  the  ranks  fell  upon 
his  knees,  while  one  of  the  clergy  implored  God 
to  forgive  the  sin  of  their  chieftain,  and  to  grant 
them  protection  and  victory. 

The  strange  movement  wag  seen  from  the 
Catholic  camp.  "By  death,"  exclaimed  Joy- 
euse,  "  the  poltroons  are  frightened.  Look  1 
they  kneel,  imploring  our  mercy." 

"Do  not  deceive  yourself,"  replied  an  old  cap- 
tain. "When  the  Huguenots  get  into  that  po- 
sition, they  are  ready  for  hard  fighting." 

The  brilliant  battalions  of  the  enemy  now  be- 
gan to  deploy.  Some  one  spoke  of  the  splendor 
of  their  arms.  Henry  smiled  and  replied,  "  We 
shall  have  the  better  aim  when  the  fight  begins.'* 
13—14 


210  KING   HENRY  IV. 


The  battle  of  Coutras. 


Another  ventured  to  intimate  that  the  ministers 
had  rebuked  him  with  needless  severity.  He 
replied,  "We  can  not  be  too  humble  before  God, 
nor  too  brave  before  men."  Then  turning  to 
his  followers,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  he  address- 
ed to  them  a  short  and  noble  speech.  He  de- 
plored the  calamities  of  war,  and  solemnly  de- 
clared that  he  had  drawn  arms  only  in  self-de- 
fense. "Let  them,"  said  he,  "perish  who  are 
the  authors  of  this  war.  May  the  blood  shed 
this  day  rest  upon  them  alone." 

To  his  two  prominent  generals,  the  Prince  of 
Conde  and  the  Count  de  Soissons,  he  remarked, 
with  a  smile,  "To  you  I  shall  say  nothing  but 
that  you  are  of  the  house  of  Bourbon,  and,  please 
God,  I  will  show  you  this  day  that  I  am  your 
elder." 

The  battle  almost  immediately  ensued.  Like 
all  fierce  fights,  it  was  for  a  time  but  a  delirious 
scene  of  horror,  confusion,  and  carnage.  But 
the  Protestants,  with  sinewy  arms,  hewed  down 
their  effeminate  foes,  and  with  infantry  and  cav- 
alry swept  to  and  fro  resistlessly  over  the  plain* 
The  white  plume  of  Henry  of  Navarre  was  ever 
seen  waving  in  the  tumultuous  throng  wherever 
the  battle  was  waged  the  fiercest. 

There  was  a  singular  blending  of  the  facetious 


THE  LEAGUE.  21.1 

The  victory.  Exultation  of  the  troop-*. 

with  the  horrible  in  this  sanguinary  scene.  Be- 
fore the  battle,  the  Protestant  preachers,  in  earn- 
est sermons,  had  compared  Henry  with  David 
at  the  head  of  the  Lord's  chosen  people.  Inrthe 
midst  of  the  bloody  fray,  when  the  field  was  cov- 
ered with  the  dying  and  the  dead,  Henry  grap- 
pled one  of  the  standard-bearers  of  the  enemy. 
At  the  moment,  humorously  reminded  of  the 
flattering  comparison  of  the  preachers,  he  shout- 
ed, with  waggery  which  even  the  excitement  of 
the  battle  could  not  repress, 

"Surrender,  you  uncircumcised  Philistine." 
In  the  course  of  one  hour  three  thousand  of 
the  Leaguers  were  weltering  in  blood  upon  the 
plain,  Joyeuse  himself,  their  leader,  being  among 
the  dead.  The  defeat  of  the  Catholics  was  so 
entire  that  not  more  than  one  fourth  of  their 
number  escaped  from  the  field  of  Goutras. 

The  victors  were  immediately  assembled  upon 
the  bloody  field,  and,  after  prayers  and  thanks- 
giving, they  sung,  with  exultant  lips, 

"  The  Lord  appears  my  helper  now, 

Nor  is  my  faith  afraid 
What  all  the  sons  of  earth  can  do, 
Since  Heaven  affords  its  aid." 

Henry  was  very  magnanimous  in  the  hour 
of  victory.  When  some  one  asked  what  terms 


212  KING   HENRY   IV. 

Magnanimity  of  Henry  of  Navarre.  Conduct  of  Marguerite. 

he  should  now  demand,  after  so  great  a  discom- 
fiture of  his  foes,  he  replied,  "7%<?  same  as  be- 
fore the  battle" 

In  reading  the  records  of  these  times,  one  is 
surprised  to  see  how  mirth,  festivity,  and  mag- 
nificence are  blended  with  blood,  misery,  and 
despair.  War  was  desolating  France  with  woes 
which  to  thousands  of  families  must  have  made 
existence  a  curse,  and  yet  amid  these  scenes 
we  catch  many  glimpses  of  merriment  and  gay- 
ety.  At  one  time  we  see  Henry  III.  weeping 
and  groaning  upon  his  bed  in  utter  wretched- 
ness, and  again  he  appears  before  us  reveling 
with  his  dissolute  companions  in  the  wildest  ca- 
rousals. While  Henry  of  Navarre  was  strug- 
gling with  his  foes  upon  the  field  of  battle,  Mar- 
guerite, his  wife,  was  dancing  and  flirting  with 
congenial  paramours  amid  all  the  guilty  pleas- 
ures of  the  court.  Henry  wrote  repeatedly  for 
her  to  come  and  join  him,  but  she  vastly  pre- 
ferred the  voluptuousness  of  the  capital  to  the 
gloom  and  the  hardships  of  the  Protestant  camp. 
She  never  loved  her  husband,  and  while  she 
Avished  that  he  might  triumph,  and  thus  confer 
upon  her  the  illustrious  rank  of  the  Queen  of 
Prance,  she  still  rejoiced  in  his  absence,  as  it 
allowed  her  that  perfect  freedom  which  she  de- 


THE   LEAGUE.  2l;J 

Court  of  Henry  of  Navarre.  Censure  by  Hie  clergy. 

sired.  When  she  saw  indications  of  approach- 
ing peace,  she  was  so  apprehensive  that  she 
might  thus  be  placed  under  constraint  by  the 
presence  of  her  husband,  that  she  did  what  she 
could  to  perpetuate  civil  war. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  several  of  the  for- 
tified cities  of  France  were  in  the  hands  of  the 
Protestants.  Henry  of  Navarre  held  his  com- 
paratively humble  court  in  the  town  of  Agen, 
where  he  was  very  much  beloved  and  respect- 
ed by  the  inhabitants.  Though  far  from  irre- 
proachable in  his  morals,  the  purity  of  his  court 
was  infinitely  superior  to  that  of  Henry  III.  and 
his  mother  Catharine.  Henry  of  Navarre  was, 
however,  surrounded  by  a  body  of  gay  and  light- 
hearted  young  noblemen,  whose  mirth-loving 
propensities  and  whose  often  indecorous  festiv- 
ities he  could  not  control.  One  evening,  at  a 
general  ball,  these  young  gentlemen  extinguish- 
ed the  lights,  and  in  the  darkness  a  scene  of 
much  scandal  ensued.  Henry  was  severely 
censured  by  the  Protestant  clergy,  and  by  many 
others  of  his  friends,  for  not  holding  the  mem- 
bers of  his  court  in  more  perfect  control.  His 
popularity  suffered  so  severely  from  this  occur- 
rence, that  it  even  became  necessary  for  Henry 
to  withdraw  his  court  from  the  town. 


214  KING   HENRY   IV. 

Tlie  flying  squadron.  Intrigue  and  gallantry. 

Catharine  and  Marguerite,  accompanied  by  a 
retinue  of  the  most  voluptuously-beautiful  girls 
of  France,  set  out  to  visit  the  court  of  Henry 
of  Navarre,  which  had  been  transferred  to  Ne- 
ruc.  Henry,  hearing  of  their  approach,  placed 
himself  at  the  head  of  five  hundred  gentlemen, 
and  hastened  to  meet  his  mother-in-law  and  his 
wife,  with  their  characteristic  and  congenial 
train.  These  were  the  instrumentalities  with 
which  Catharine  and  Marguerite  hoped  to  bend 
the  will  of  Henry  and  his  friends  to  suit  their 
purposes.  Catharine  had  great  confidence  in 
the  potency  of  the  influence  which  these  pliant 
maidens  could  wield,  and  they  were  all  instruct- 
ed in  the  part  which  they  were  to  act.  She 
was  accustomed  to  call  these  allies  her  flying 
squadron. 

There  then  ensued  a  long  series  of  negotia- 
tions, intermingled  with  mirth,  gallantry,  and 
intrigue,  but  the  result  of  which  was  a  treaty 
highly  conducive  to  the  interests  of  the  Protest- 
ants. Various  places  were  designated  where 
their  religion  should  be  freely  tolerated,  and  in 
which  they  were  to  be  allowed  to  build  conven- 
ticles. They  were  also  permitted  to  raise  mon- 
ey for  tne  support  of  their  ministers,  and  four- 
teen cities  were  surrendered  to  their  government. 


THE    LEACUE.  215 


Influences  used  by  Catharine.  la.  Heole. 

Several  incidents  occurred  during  these  negoti- 
ations very  characteristic  of  the  corrupt  man- 
ners of  the  times. 

Marguerite  devoted  herself  most  energetical- 
ly to  the  promotion  of  the  success  of  Henry's 
plans.  Catharine  found  herself,  notwithstand- 
ing all  her  artifice,  and  all  the  peculiar  seduc- 
tions of  her  female  associates,  completely  foiled 
by  the  sagacity  and  the  firmness  of  Henry.  She 
had  brought  with  her  Monsieur  de  Pibrac,  a  man 
very  celebrated  for  his  glowing  eloquence  and 
for  his  powers  of  persuasion.  The  oratory  of 
Pibrac,  combined  with  the  blandishments  of  the 
ladies,  were  those  co-operative  influences  which 
the  queen  imagined  none  would  be  able  to  re- 
sist. Marguerite,  however,  instructed  in  the 
school  of  Catharine,  succeeded  in  obtaining  en- 
tire control  over  the  mind  of  Pibrac  himself,  and 
he  became  a  perfect  tool  in  her  hands.  Catha- 
rine, thus  foiled,  was  compelled  to  grant  far  more 
favorable  terms  to  the  Protestants  than  she  had 
contemplated. 

La  Reole  was  one  of  the  towns  of  security 
surrendered  to  the  Protestants.  There  was, 
however,  so  little  of  good  faith  in  that  day,  that, 
notwithstanding  the  pledge  of  honor,  possession 
of  the  place  could  only  be  retained  by  vigilance. 


216  KING   HENRY  IV. 

Treachery  of  Ussac.  News  of  the  loss  of  La  Reolc. 

The  government  of  the  town  had  been  conferred 
upon  a  veteran  Protestant  general  by  the  name 
of  Ussac.  His  days,  from  early  youth,  had  been 
passed  on  fields  of  battle.  He  was  now  far  ad- 
vanced in  years,  in  feeble  health,  and  dreadful- 
ly disfigured  by  wounds  received  in  the  face. 
One  of  the  most  fascinating  of  the  ladies  of  the 
queen-mother  lavished  such  endearments  upon 
the  old  man,  already  in  his  dotage,  that  he  lost 
his  principles  and  all  %self-control,  and  made 
himself  very  ridiculous  by  assuming  the  airs  of 
a  young  lover.  Henry  had  the  imprudence  to 
join  in  the  mockery  with  which  the  court  re- 
garded his  tenderness.  This  was  an  indignity 
which  an  old  man  could  never  forget.  Insti- 
gated by  his  beautiful  seducer,  he  became  en- 
tirely unmindful  of  those  principles  of  honor 
which  had  embellished  his  life,  and  in  revenge 
invited  a  Roman  Catholic  general  to  come  and 
take  possession  of  the  town. 

Henry  was  informed  of  this  act  of  treachery 
while  dancing  at  a  very  brilliant  entertainment 
given  in  his  palace.  He  quietly  whispered  to 
Tureime,  Sully,  and  a  few  others  of  his  most 
intimate  friends,  requesting  them  to  escape  from 
the  room,  gather  around  them  such  armed  men 
as  they  could,  and  join  him  at  a  rendezvous  in 


THE   LEAGUE.  217 

The  recapture.  .    Precarious  peace. 

the  country.  They  all  stole  unperceived  from 
the  mirthful  party,  concealed  their  swords  be- 
neath their  cloaks,  traveled  all  night,  and  ar- 
rived, just  as  the  day  began  to  dawn,  before  the 
gates  of  the  city.  They  found  the  place,  as 
they  had  expected,  entirely  unprepared  for  such 
a,  sudden  attack,  and,  rushing  in,  regained  it 
without  difficulty.  The  Catholic  soldiers  re- 
treated to  the  castle,  where  they  held  out  a  few 
days,  and  many  of  them  perished  in  the  assault 
by  which  it  was  soon  taken. 

Such  was  the  character  of  the  nominal  peace 
which  now  existed.  A  partisan  warfare  was 
still  continued  throughout  France..  Catharine 
and  her  maids  did  every  thing  in  their  power  to 
excite  dissensions  between  the  Protestant  lead- 
ers. In  this  they  succeeded  so  well  that  the 
Prince  of  Conde  became  so  exasperated  against 
Turenne  as  to  challenge  him  to  single  combat. 

Such  a  peace  as  we  have  above  described 
could  not,  of  course,  be  lasting.  Both  parties 
were  soon  again  gathering  all  their  forces  for 
war.  There  is  a  tedious  monotony  in  the  re- 
cital of  the  horrors  of  battle.  Cities  bombard- 
ed, and  sacked,  and  burned ;  shells  exploding 
in  the  cradle  of  infancy  and  in  the  chambers  of 
mothers  and  maidens ;  mutilated  bodies  tram- 


218  KING   HENIIY   IV. 

Attempt  to  assassinate  Henry. 

pled  beneath  the  hoofs  of  horses ;  the  cry  of 
the  maddened  onset,  the  shrieks  of  the  wound- 
ed, and  the  groans  of  the  dying ;  the  despair  of 
the  widow  and  the  orphan ;  smouldering  ruins 
of  once  happy  homes ;  the  fruits  of  the  hus- 
bandman's toils  trodden  into  the  mire  ;  starva- 
tion, misery,  and  death — these  are  ever  the  fruits 
of  war. 

During  the  short  interval  of  peace,  many  at- 
tempts had  been  made  to  assassinate  Henry  of 
Navarre  by  the  partisans  of  the  Duke  of  Guise. 
Henry  was,  one  fine  morning,  setting  out  with  a 
few  friends  for  a  ride  of  pleasure.  Just  as  the 
party  were  leaving  the  court-yard,  he  was  in- 
formed that  an  assassin,  very  powerfully  mount- 
ed, was  prepared  to  meet  hina  on  the  way  and 
to  take  his  life.  Henry  apparently  paid  no 
heed  to  the  warning,  but  rode  along  conversing 
gayly  with  his  friends.  They  soon  met,  in  a 
retired  part  of  the  way,  a  stranger,  armed  ac- 
cording to  the  custom  of  the  times,  and  mount- 
ed upon  a  very  magnificent  steed,  which  had 
been  prepared  for  him  to  facilitate  his  escape 
after  the  accomplishment  of  the  fell  deed.  Hen- 
ry immediately  rode  up  to  the  assassin,  address- 
ed him  in  terms  of  great  familiarity  and  cordi- 
ality, and,  professing  to  admire  the  beautiful 


THE  LEAGUE. 


The  assassin  humiliated. 


charger  upon  which  he  was  mounted,  requested 
him  to  dismount,  that  he  might  try  the  splendid 
animal.  The  man,  bewildered,  obeyed  the  wish- 
es of  the  king,  when  Henry  leaped  into  the  sad- 
dle, and,  seizing  the  two  loaded  pistols  at  the 
saddle-bow,  looked  the  man  sternly  in  the  eye, 
and  said, 

>  "  I  am  told  that  you  seek  to  kill  me.  You 
are  now  in  my  power,  and  I  could  easily  put 
you  to  death ;  but  I  will  not  harm  you." 

He  then  discharged  the  two  pistols  in  the 
air,  and  permitted  the  humiliated  man  to  mount 
his  horse  and  ride  away  unharmed. 


220  KING   HENRY   IV. 

Imbecility  of  the  king.  Haughtiness  of  the  Duke  of  Gui.-n. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  ASSASSINATION   OF  THE   DUKE 
OP  GUISE  AND  OF  HENRY  III. 

r  I  ^HE  war,  again  resumed,  was  fiercely  prose- 
-•-  cuted.  Henry  III.  remained  most  of  the 
time  in  the  gilded  saloons  of  the  Louvre,  irrita- 
ble and  wretched,  arid  yet  incapable  of  any  con- 
tinued efficient  exertion.  Many  of  the  zealous 
Leaguers,  indignant  at  the  pusillanimity  he  dis- 
played, urged  the  Duke  of  Guise  to  dethrone 
Henry  III.  by  violence,  and  openly  to  declare 
himself  King  of  France.  They  assured  him 
that  the  nation  would  sustain  him  by  their  arms. 
But  the  duke  was  not  prepared  to  enter  upon  so 
bold  a  measure,  as  he  hoped  that  the  death  of 
the  king  would  soon  present  to  him  a  far  more 
favorable  opportunity  for  the  assumption  of  the 
throne.  Henry  III.  was  in  constant  fear  that 
the  duke,  whose  popularity  in  France  was  almost 
boundless,  might  supplant  him,  and  he  therefore 
forbade  him  to  approach  the  metropolis. 

Notwithstanding  this  prohibition, the  haughty 
duke,  accompanied  by  a  small  party  of  his  in- 


THE  ASSASSINATION.  221 

The  duke  goes  to  Paris. 

trepid  followers,  as  if  to  pay  court  to  his  sover- 
eign, boldly  entered  the  city.  The  populace  of 
the  capital,  ever  ripe  for  excitement  and  insur- 
rection, greeted  him  with  boundless  enthusiasm. 
Thousands  thronged  the  broad  streets  through 
which  he  passed  with  a  small  but  brilliant  ret- 
inue. Ladies  crowded  the  windows,  waving 
scarfs,  cheering  him  with  smiles,  and  showering 
flowers  at  his  feet.  The  cry  resounded  along 
the  streets,  penetrating  even  the  apartments  of 
the  Louvre,  and  falling  appallingly  upon  the  ear 
of  the  king: 

"Welcome — welcome,  great  duke.  Now  you 
are  come,  we  are  safe." 

Henry  III.  was  amazed  and  terrified  by  this 
insolence  of  his  defiant  subject.  In  bewilder- 
ment, he  asked  those  about  him  what  he  should 
do. 

"  Give  me  the  word,"  said  a  colonel  of  his 
guard,  "and  I  will  plunge  my  sword  through 
his  body." 

"  Smite  the  shepherd,"  added  one  of  the 
king's  spiritual  counselors,  "arid  the  sheep  will 
disperse." 

But  Henry  feared  to  exasperate  the  populace 
of  Paris  by  the  assassination  of  a  noble  so.  pow- 
erful and  so  popular.  In  the  midst  of  this  con- 


KING  HENKY  IV. 

Interview  with  the  king. 

sultation,  the  Duke  of  Guise,  accompanied  by 
the  queen-mother  Catharine,  whom  he  had  first 
called  upon,  entered  the  Louvre,  and,  passing 
through  the  numerous  body-guard  of  the  king, 
whom  he  saluted  with  much  affability,  present- 
ed himself  before  the  feeble  monarch.  The 
king  looked  sternly  upon  him,  and,  without  any 
word  of  greeting,  exclaimed  angrily, 

"  Did  I  not  forbid  you  to  enter  Paris  ?" 

"  Sire,"  the  duke  replied,  firmly,  but  with  af- 
fected humility,  "  I  came  to  demand  justice, 
and  to  reply  to  the  accusations  of  my  enemies." 

The  interview  was  short  and  unrelenting. 
The  king,  exasperated  almost  beyond  endur- 
ance, very  evidently  hesitated  whether  to  give 
the  signal  for  the  immediate  execution  of  his 
dreaded  foe.  There  were  those  at  his  side,  with 
arms  in  their  hands,  who  were  eager. instantly 
to  obey  his  bidding.  The  Duke  of  Guise  per- 
ceived the  imminence  of  his  danger,  and,  feigning 
sudden  indisposition,  immediately  retired.  In 
his  own  almost  regal  mansion  he  gathered 
around  him  his  followers  and  his  friends,  and 
thus  placed  himself  in  a  position  where  even 
the  arm  of  the  sovereign  could  not  venture  to 
touch  him. 

There  were  now  in  Paris,  as  it  were,  two  ri- 


THE   ASSASSINATION.  223 

Two  rival  courts.  The  Swiss  guard  defeated. 

val  courts,  emulating  each  other  in  splendor  and 
power.  The  one  was  that  of  the  king  at  the 
Louvre  the  other  was  that  of  the  duke  in  his 
palace.  It  was  rumored  that  the  duke  was  or- 
ganizing a  conspiracy  to  arrest  the  king  and 
hold  him  a  captive.  Henry  III.,  to  strengthen 
his  body-guard,  called  a  strong  force  of  Swiss 
mercenaries  into  the  city.  The  retainers  of  the 
duke,  acting  under  the  secret  instigation  of  their 
chieftain,  roused  the  populace  of  Paris  to  resist 
the  Swiss.  Barricades  were  immediately  conr- 
structed  by  filling  barrels  with  stones  and  earth ; 
chains  were  stretched  across  the  streets  from 
house  to  house ;  and  organized  bands,  armed 
with  pikes  and  muskets,  threatened  even  the 
gates  of  the  Louvre. 

A  conflict  soon  ensued,  and  the  Swiss  guard 
were  defeated  by  the  mob  at  every  point.  The 
Duke  of  Guise,  though  he  secretly  guided  all 
these  movements,  remained  in  his  palace,  affect- 
ing to  have  no  share  in  the  occurrences.  Night 
came.  Confusion  and  tumult  rioted  in  the  city. 
The  insurgent  populace,  intoxicated  and  mad- 
dened, swarmed  around  the  walls  of  the  palace, 
and  the  king  was  besieged.  The  spiritless  and 
terrified  monarch,  disguising  himself  in  humble 
garb,  crept  to  his  stables,  mounted  a  fleet  horse, 


224  KING   HENRY   IV. 

Tumult  in  the  city.  Dignity  of  Achille  de  Ilarlar. 

and  fled  from  the  city.  Riding  at  full  speed, 
he  sought  refuge  in  Chartres,  a  walled  town  for- 
ty miles  southeast  of  Paris. 

The  flight  of  the  king  before  an  insurgent 
populace  was  a  great  victory  to  the  duke.  He 
was  thus  left  in  possession  of  the  metropolis 
without  any  apparent  act  of  rebellion  on  his 
own  part,  arid  it  became  manifestly  his  duty  to 
do  all  in  his  power  to  preserve  order  in  the  cap- 
ital thus  surrendered  to  anarchy.  The  duke 
had  ever  been  the  idol  of  the  populace,  but  now 
nearly  the  whole  population  of  Paris,  and  es- 
pecially the  influential  citizens,  looked  to  him 
as  their  only  protector. 

Some,  however,  with  great  heroism,  still  ad- 
hered to  the  cause  of  the  king.  The  Duke  of 
Guise  sent  for  Achille  de  Harlai,  President  of 
the  Council,  and  endeavored  to  win  him  over  to 
his  cause,  that  he  might  thus  sanction  his  usur- 
pation by  legal  forms  ;  but  De  Harlai,  fixing  his 
eyes  steadfastly  upon  the  duke,  fearlessly  said. 

"  'Tis  indeed  pitiable  when  the  valet  expels 
his  master.  As  for  me,  my  soul  belongs  to  my 
Maker,  and  my  fidelity  belongs  to  the  king. 
My  body  alone  is  in  the  hands  of  the  wicked. 
You  talk  of  assembling  the  Parliament.  When 
the  majesty  of  the  prince  is  violated,  the  magis- 


THE   ASSASSINATION.  225 

Measures  adopted  by  the  duke. 

trate  is  without  authority."  The  intrepid  pres- 
ident was  seized  and  imprisoned. 

The  followers  of  Henry  III.  soon  gathered 
around  him  at  Chartres,  and  he  fortified  him- 
self strongly  there.  The  Duke  of  Guise,  though 
still  protesting  great  loyalty,  immediately  as- 
sumed at  Paris  the  authority  of  a  sovereign. 
He  assembled  around  him  strong  military  forces, 
professedly  to  protect  the  capital  from  disturb- 
ance. For  a  month  or  two  negotiations  were 
conducted  between  the  two  parties  for  a  com- 
promise, each  fearing  the  other  too  much  to  ap- 
peal to  the  decisions  of  the  sword.  At  last 
Henry  III.  agreed  to  appoint  the  Duke  of  Guise 
lieutenant  general  of  France  and  high  consta- 
ble of  the  kingdom.  He  also,  while  pledging 
himself  anew  to  wage  a  war  of  extermination 
against  the  Protestants,  promised  to  bind  the 
people  of  France,  by  an  oath,  to  exclude  from 
the  succession  to  the  throne  all  persons  suspect- 
ed even  of  Protestantism.  This  would  effect- 
ually cut  off  the  hopes  of  Henry  of  Navarre, 
and  secure  the  crown  to  the  Duke  of  Guise  upon 
the  death  of  the  king. 

Both  of  the  antagonists  now  pretended  to  a 
sincere  reconciliation,  and  Henry,  having  re- 
ceived Guise  at  Chartres  with  open  arms,  re- 
13—15 


226  KING   HENKY   IV. 

Endeavors  to  obtain  an  assassin.  The  king  at  Blois. 

turned  to  Paris,  meditating  how  he  might  secure 
the  death  of  his  dreaded  and  powerful  rival. 
Imprisonment  was  not  to  be  thought  of,  for  no 
fortress  in  France  could  long  hold  one  so  idol- 
ized by  the  populace.  The  king  applied  in  per- 
son to  one  of  his  friends,  a  brave  and  honest  sok 
dier  by  the  name  of  Crillon,  to  assassinate  the 
duke. 

"I  am  not  an  executioner,"  the  soldier  proud- 
ly replied,  "  and  the  function  does  not  become 
my  rank.  But  I  will  challenge  the  duke  to 
open  combat,  and  will  cheerfully  sacrifice  my 
life  that  I  may  take  his." 

This  plan  not  meeting  with  the  views  of  the 
king,  he  applied  to  one  of  the  commanders  of 
his  guard  named  Lorgnac.  This  man  had  no 
scruples,  and  with  alacrity  undertook  to  perform 
the  deed.  Henry,  having  retired  to  the  castle 
of  Blois,  about  one  hundred  miles  south  of  Par- 
is, arranged  all  the  details,  while  he  was  daily, 
with  the  most  consummate  hypocrisy,  receiv- 
ing his  victim  with  courteous  words  and  smiles. 
The  king  summoned  a  council  to  attend  him  in 
his  cabinet  at  Blois  on  the  23d  of  December. 
It  was  appointed  at  an  early  hour,  and  the  Duke 
of  Guise  attended  without  his  usual  retinue.  He 
had  been  repeatedly  warned  to  guard  against  the 
treachery  of  Henry,  but  his  reply  was. 


THE   ASSASSINATION.  229 


Assassination  of  the  Duke  of  Guise. 


"  I  do  not  know  that  man  on  earth  who, 
hand  to  hand  with  me,  would  not  have  his  full 
share  of  fear.  Besides,  I  am  always  so  well 
attended  that  it  would  not  be  easy  to  find  me 
off  my  guard." 

The  duke  arrived  at  the  door  of  the  cabinet 
after  passing  through  long  files  of  the  king's 
body-guard.  Just  as  he  was  raising  the  tapes- 
try which  veiled  the  entrance,  Lorgnac  sprang 
upon  him  and  plunged  a  dagger  into  his  throat. 
Others  immediately  joined  in  the  assault,  and 
the  duke  dropped,  pierced  with  innumerable 
wounds,  dead  upon  the  floor. 

Henry,  hearing  the  noise  and  knowing  well 
what  it  signified,  very  coolly  stepped  from  his 
cabinet  into  the  ante -chamber,  and,  looking 
calmly  upon  the  bloody  corpse,  said, 

"  Do  you  think  he  is  dead,  Lorgnac?" 

"Yes,  sire,"  Lorgnac  replied,  "he  looks  like 
it." 

"Good  God,  how  tall  he  is!"  said  the  king. 
"He  seems  taller  dead  than  when  he  was  liv- 
ing." Then  giving  the  gory  body  a  kick,  he 
exclaimed,  "Venomous  beast,  thou  shalt  cast 
forth  no  more  venom." 

In  the  same  manner  the  duke  had  treated  the 
remains  of  the  noble  Admiral  Coligni,  a  solemn 


230  KING  HENRY  IV. 

Interview  between  the  king  and  Catharine. 

comment  upon  the  declaration,  "With  what 
measure  ye  mete  it  shall  be  measured  to  you 
again." 

Cardinal  Guise,  the  brother  of  the  duke,  was 
immediately  arrested  by  order  of  the  king,  and 
sent  to  prison,  where  he  was  assassinated.  Hen- 
ry III.  soon  after  repaired  to  the  bedside  of 
Catharine  his  mother,  who  was  lying  sick  in 
one  of  the  chambers  of  the  castle.  Nothing  can 
show  more  clearly  the  character  of  the  times 
and  of  the  personages  than  the  following  la- 
conic dialogue  which  ensued : 

"How  do  you  do,  mother,  this  morning?" 
inquired  the  king. 

"  I  am  better  than  I  have  been,"  she  replied. 

"  So  am  I,"  Henry  rejoined,  gayly,  "  for  I 
have  made  myself  this  morning  King  of  France 
by  putting  to  death  the  King  of  Paris." 

"  Take  care,"  this  hardened  woman  exclaim- 
ed, "  that  you  do  not  soon  find  yourself  king 
of  nothing.  Diligence  and  resolution  are  now 
absolutely  necessary  for  you." 

She  then  turned  upon  her  pillow  without  the 
slightest  apparent  emotion.  In  twelve  days  from 
this  time,  this  wretched  queen,  deformed  by  ev- 
ery vice,  without  one  single  redeeming  virtue, 
breathed  her  last,  seventy  years  of  age.  She 


THE   ASSASSINATION.  231 

Indignation  of  the  League.  Anathemas  against  the  king. 

was  despised  by  the  Catholics,  and  hated  by 
the  Protestants. 

These  acts  of  violence  and  crime  roused  the 
League  to  the  most  intense  energy.  The  mur- 
der of  the  Duke  of  Guise,  and  especially  the 
murder  of  his  brother,  a  cardinal  in  the  Church, 
were  acts  of  impiety  which  no  atonement  could 
expiate.  Though  Henry  was  a  Catholic,  and 
all  his  agents  in  these  atrocious  murders  were 
Catholics,  the  death  of  the  Duke  of  Guise  in- 
creased vastly  the  probability  that  Protestant 
influences  might  become  dominant  at  court. 
The  Pope  issued  a  bull  of  excommunication 
against  all  who  should  advocate  the  cause  of 
Henry  III.  The  Sorbonne  published  a  decree 
declaring  that  the  king  had  forfeited  all  right  to 
the  obedience  of  his  subjects,  and  justifying 
them  in  taking  up  arms  against  him.  The  cler- 
gy, from  the  pulpit,  refused  communion,  abso- 
lution, and  burial  in  holy  ground  to  every  one 
.who  yielded  obedience  to  "the  perfidious  apos- 
tate and  tyrant;  Henry  of  Valois." 

The  League  immediately  chose  the  Duke  of 
Mayenne,  a  surviving  brother  of  the  Duke  of 
Guise,  as  its  head.  The  Pope  issued  his  anath- 
emas against  Henry  III.,  and  Spain  sent  her 
armies  to  unite  with  the  League.  Henry  now 


232  KINO   HENRY   IV. 

The  king  seeks  aid  from  the  Protestants. 

found  it  necessary  to  court  the  assistance  of  the 
Protestants.  He  dreaded  to  take  this  step,  for 
lie  was  superstitious  in  the  extreme,  and  he 
could  not  endure  the  thought  of  any  alliance 
with  heretics.  He  had  still  quite  a  formidable 
force  which  adhered  to  him,  for  many  of  the 
highest  nobles  were  disgusted  with  the  arro- 
gance of  the  Guises,  and  were  well  aware  that 
the  enthronement  of  the  house  of  Guise  would 
secure  their  own  banishment  from  court. 

The  triumph  of  the  League  would  be  total 
discomfiture  to  the  Protestants.  No  freedom 
of  worship  or  of  conscience  whatever  would  be 
allowed  them.  It  was  therefore  for  the  interest 
of  the  Protestants  to  sustain  the  more  moderate 
party  hostile  to  the  League.  It  was  estimated 
that  about  one  sixth  of  the  inhabitants  of  France 
were  at  that  time  Protestants. 

Wretched,  war-scathed  France  was  now  dis- 
tracted by  three  parties.  First,  there  were  the 
Protestants,  contending  only  in  self-defense 
against  persecution,  and  yet  earnestly  praying 
that,  upon  the  death  of  the  king,  Henry  of  Na- 
varre, the  legitimate  successor,  might  ascend  the 
throne.  Next  came  those  Catholics  who  were 
friendly  to  the  claims  of  Henry  from  their  re- 
spect for  the  ancient  law  of  succession.  Then 


THE  ASSASSINATION.  233 

I>  solatioris  of  war.  Compact  with  Henry  of  Navarre. 

came,  combined  in  the  League,  the  bigoted  par- 
tisans of  the  Church,  resolved  to  exterminate 
from  Europe,  with  fire  and  sword,  the  detested 
heresy  of  Protestantism. 

Henry  III.  was  now  at  the  castle  of  Blois. 
Paris  was  hostile  to  him.  -The  Duke  of  May- 
enne,  younger  brother  of  the  Duke  of  Guise,  at 
the  head  of  five  thousand  soldiers  of  the  League, 
marched  to  the  metropolis,  where  he  was  re- 
ceived by  the  Parisians  with  unbounded  joy. 
He  was  urged  by  the  populace  and  the  Parlia- 
ment in  Paris  to  proclaim  himself  king.  But 
he  was  not  yet  prepared  for  so  decisive  a  step. 

No  tongue  can  tell  the  misery  which  now  per- 
vaded ill-fated  France.  Some  .cities  were  Prot- 
estant, some  were  Catholic ;  division,  and  war, 
and  blood  were  every  where.  Armed  bands 
swept  to  and  fro,  and  conflagration  and  slaugh- 
ter deluged  the  kingdom. 

The  king  immediately  sent  to  Henry  of  Na- 
varre, promising  to  confer  many  political  privi- 
leges upon  the  Protestants,  and  to  maintain 
Henry's  right  to  the  throne,  if  he  would  aid  him 
in  the  conflict  against  the  League.  The  terms 
of  reconciliation  were  soon  effected.  Henry  of 
Navarre,  then  leaving  his  army  to  advance  by 
rapid  marches,  rode  forward  with  his  retinue  to 


234  KING   HENRY  IV. 


Interview  at  Plessis  les  Tours. 


meet  his  brother-in-law,  Henry  of  Valois.  He 
found  him  at  one  of  the  ancient  palaces  of 
France,  Plessis  les  Tours.  The  two  monarchs 
had  been  friends  in  childhood,  but  they  had  not 
met  for  many  years.  The  King  of  Navarre  was 
urged  by  his  friends  not  to  trust  himself  in  the 
power  of  Henry  III.  "For,"  said  they,  "the 
King  of  France  desires  nothing  so  much  as  to 
obtain  reconciliation  with  the  Pope,  and  no  of- 
fering can  be  so  acceptable  to  the  Pope  as  the 
death  of  a  heretic  prince." 

Henry  hesitated  a  moment  when  he  arrived 
upon  an  eminence  which  commanded  a  distant 
view  of  the  palace.  Then  exclaiming,  "  God 
guides  me,  and  He  will  go  with  me,';  he  plunged 
his  spurs  into  his  horse's  side,  and  galloped  for- 
ward. 

The  two  monarchs  met,  each  surrounded  with 
a  gorgeous  retinue,  in  one  of  the  magnificent 
avenues  which  conducted  to  the  castle.  For- 
getting the  animosities  of  years,  and  remember- 
ing only  the  friendships  of  childhood,  they  cast 
themselves  cordially  into  each  other's  arms. 
The  multitude  around  rent  the  air  with  their 
acclamations. 

Henry  of  Navarre  now  addressed  a  manifesto 
to  all  the  inhabitants  of  France  in  behalf  of  their 


THE   ASSASSINATION.  2b5 

The  manifesto.  Renewed  war. 

woe-stricken  country.  "I  conjure  you  all," 
said  lie,  "  Catholics  as  well  as  Protestants,  to 
have  pity  on  the  state  and  on  yourselves.  We 
have  all  done  and  suffered  evil  enough.  We 
have  been  four  years  intoxicate,  insensate,  and 
furious.  Is  not  this  sufficient  ?  Has  not  God 
smitten  us  all  enough  to  allay  our  fury,  and  to 
make  us  wise  at  last  ?" 

But  passion  was  too  much  aroused  to  allow 
such  appeals  to  Ibe  heeded.  Battle  after  battle, 
with  ever-varying  success,  ensued  between  the 
combined  forces  of  the  king  and  Henry  of  Na- 
varre on  one  side,  and  of  the  League,  aided  by 
many  of  the  princes  of  Catholic  Europe,  on  the 
other.  The  storms  of  winter  swept  over  the 
freezing  armies  arid  the  smouldering  towns,  and 
the  wail  of  the  victims  of  horrid  war  blended 
with  the  moanings  of  the  gale.  Spring  came, 
but  it  brought  no  joy  to  desolate,  distracted, 
wretched  France.  Summer  came,  and  the  bright 
sun  looked  down  upon  barren  fields,  and  upon 
a  bleeding,  starving,  fighting  nation.  Henry  of 
Navarre,  in  command  of  the  royal  forces,  at  the 
head  of  thirty  thousand  troops,  was  besieging 
Paris,  which  was  held  by  the  Duke  of  Mayenne, 
and  boldly  and  skillfully  was  conducting  his 
approaches  to  a  successful  termination.  The 


236  KING  HENRY   IV. 

Duchess  of  Montpensier.  The  flag  of  truce. 

cause  of  the  League  began  to  wane.  Henry  III. 
had  taken  possession  of  the  castle  of  St.  Cloud, 
and  from  its  elevated  windows  looked  out  with 
joy  upon  the  bold  assaults  and  the  advancing 
works. 

The  leaders  of  the  League  now  resolved  to 
resort  again  to  the  old  weapon  of  assassination. 
Henry  III.  was  to  be  killed.  But  no  man  could 
kill  him  unless  he  was  also  willing  to  sacrifice 
his  own  life.  The  Duchess  of  Montpensier,  sis- 
ter of  the  Duke  of  Guise,  for  the  accomplish- 
ment of  this  purpose,  won  the  love,  by  caress- 
ings  and  endearments,  of  Jaques  Clement,  an 
ardent,  enthusiastic  monk  of  wild  and  roman- 
tic imaginings,  and  of  the  most  intense  fanati- 
cism. The  beautiful  duchess  surrendered  her- 
self without  any  reserve  whatever  to  the  para- 
mour she  had  enticed  to  her  arms,  that  she  might 
obtain  the  entire  supremacy  over  his  mind.  Cle- 
ment concealed  a  dagger  in  his  bosom,  and  then 
went  out  from  the  gates  of  the  city  accompani- 
ed by  two  soldiers  and  with  a  flag  of  truce,  os- 
tensibly to  take  a  message  to  the  king.  He 
refused  to  communicate  his  message  to  any  one 
but  the  monarch  himself.  Henry  III.,  suppos- 
ing it  to  be  a  communication  of  importance,  per- 
haps a  proposition  to  surrender,  ordered  him  to 


THE  ASSASSINATION.  239 

Assassination  of  Henry  III.  Arrival  of  Henry  of  Navarre. 

be  admitted  immediately  to  his  cabinet.  Two 
persons  only  were  present  with  the  king.  The 
monk  entered,  and,  kneeling,  drew  a  letter  from 
the  sleeve  of  his  gown,  presented  it  to  the  king, 
and  instantly  drawing  a  large  knife  from  its  con- 
cealment, plunged  it  into  the  entrails  of  his  vic- 
tim. The  king  uttered  a  piercing  cry,  caught 
the  knife  from  his  body  and  struck  at  the  head 
of  his  murderer,  wounding  him  above  the  eye. 
The  two  gentlemen  who  were  present  instantly 
thrust  their  swords  through  the  body  of  the  as- 
sassin, and  he  fell  dead. 

The  king,  groaning  with  anguish,  was  un- 
dressed and  borne  to  his  bed.  The  tidings 
spread  rapidly,  and  soon  reached  the  ears  of 
the  King  of  Navarre,  who  was  a  few  miles  dis- 
tant at  Meudon.  He  galloped  to  St.  Cloud, 
and  knelt  with  gushing  tears  at  the  couch  of 
the  dying  monarch.  Henry  III.  embraced  him 
with  apparently  the  most  tender  affection.  In 
broken  accents,  interrupted  with  groans  of  an- 
guish, he  said, 

"If  my  wound  proves  mortal,  I  leave  my 
crown  to  you  as  my  legitimate  successor.  If 
my  will  can  have  any  effect,  the  crown  will  re- 
main as  firmly  upon  your  brow  as  it  was  upon 
that  of  Charlemagne." 


240  KING  HENRY   IV.          [1589. 

Dying  scene.  Henry  IV.  assumes  the  crown. 

He  then  assembled  his  principal  officers 
around  him,  and  enjoined  them  to  unite  for  the 
preservation  of  the  monarchy,  and  to  sustain  the 
claims  of  the  King  of  Navarre  as  the  indisputa- 
ble heir  to  the  throne  of  France. 

A  day  of  great  anxiety  passed  slowly  away, 
and  as  the  shades  of  evening  settled  down  over 
the  palace,  it  became  manifest  to  all  that  the 
wound  was  mortal.  The  wounded  monarch 
writhed  upon  his  bed  in  fearful  agony.  At 
midnight,  Henry  of  Navarre,  who  was  busily 
engaged  superintending  some  of  the  works  of 
the  siege,  was  sent  for,  as  the  King  of  France 
was  dying.  Accompanied  by  a  retinue  of  thir- 
ty gentlemen,  he  proceeded  at  full  speed  to  the 
gates  of  the  castle  where  the  monarch  was  strug- 
gling in  the  grasp  of  the  King  of  Terrors. 

It  is  difficult  to  imagine  the  emotions  which 
must  have  agitated  the  soul  of  Henry  of  Na- 
varre during  this  dark  and  gloomy  ride.  The 
day  had  not  yet  dawned  when  he  arrived  at 
the  gates  of  the  castle.  The  first  tidings  he  re- 
ceived were,  The  king  is  dead.  It  was  the  2d 
of  August,  1589. 

Henry  of  Navarre  was  now  Henry  IV.,  King 
of  France.  But  never  did  monarch  ascend  the 
throne  under  circumstances  of  greater  perplexi- 


1589.]       THE   ASSASSINATION.  241 


Difficulties  of  the  new  reign. 


ty  and  peril.  Never  was  a  more  distracted  king- 
dom placed  in  the  hands  of  a  new  monarch. 
Henry  was  now  thirty-four  years  of  age.  The 
whole  kingdom  was  convulsed  by  warring  fac- 
tions. For  years  France  had  been  desolated 
by  all  the  most  virulent  elements  of  religious 
and  political  animosity.  All  hearts  were  demor- 
alized by  familiarity  with  the  dagger  of  the  as- 
sassin and  the  carnage  of  the  battle-field.  Al- 
most universal  depravity  had  banished  all  re- 
spect for  morality  and  law.  The  whole  fabric 
of  society  was  utterly  disorganized. 

Under  these  circumstances,  Henry  developed 
that  energy  and  sagacity  which  have  given  him 
a  high  position  among  the  most  renowned  of 
earthly  monarchs.  He  immediately  assembled 
around  him  that  portion  of  the  royal  army  in 
whose  fidelity  he  could  confide.  Without  the 
delay  of  an  hour,  he  commenced  dictating  let- 
ters to  all  the  monarchies  of  Europe,  announc- 
ing his  accession  to  the  throne,  and  soliciting 
their  aid  to  confirm  him  in  his  legitimate  rights. 

As  the  new  sovereign  entered  the  chamber 
of  the  deceased  king,  he  found  the  corpse  sur- 
rounded by  many  of  the  Catholic  nobility  of 
France.  They  were  ostentatiously  solemniz- 
ing the  obsequies  of  the  departed  monarch.  He 
13—16 


242  KING   HENRY   IV.  [1589. 


Danger  of  assassination. 


heard  many  low  m titterings  from  these  zealous 
partisans  of  Rome,  that  they  would  rather  die 
a  thousand  deaths  than  allow  a  Protestant  king 
to  ascend  the  throne.  Angry  eyes  glared  upon 
him  from  the  tumultuous  and  mutinous  crowd, 
and,  had  not  Henry  retired  to  consult  for  his 
own  safety,  he  also  might  have  fallen  the  vic- 
tim of  assassination.  In  the  intense  excite- 
ment of  these  hours,  the  leading  Catholics  held 
a  meeting,  and  appointed  a  committee  to  wait 
upon  Henry,  and  inform  him  that  he  must  im- 
mediately abjure  Protestantism  and  adopt  the 
Catholic  faith,  or  forfeit  their  support  to  the 
<rrown. 

•"  Would  you  have  me,"  Henry  replied,  "  pro- 
fess conversion  "with  the  dagger  at  my  throat  ? 
And  could  you,  in  the  day  of  battle,  follow  one 
with  confidence  who  had  thus  proved  that  he 
was  an  apostate  and  without  a  God  ?  I  can 
only  promise  carefully  to  examine  the  subject 
that  I  may  be  guided  to  the  truth." 

Henry  was  a  Protestant  from  the  force  of  cir- 
cumstances rather  than  from  conviction.  He 
was  not  a  theologian  cither  in  mind  or  heart, 
and  he  regarded  the  Catholics  and  Protestants 
merely  as  two  political  parties,  the  one  or  the 
other  of  which  -he  would  join,  according  as,  in 


1589.]       THE   ASSASSINATION.          243 


Religious  principles  of  Henry  IV. 


his  view,  it  might  promote  his  personal  interests 
and  the  welfare  of  France.  In  his  childhood 
he  was  a  Catholic.  In  boyhood,  under  the  tu- 
ition of  his  mother,  Protestant  influences  were 
thrown  around  him,  and  he  was  nominally  a 
Protestant.  He  saved  his  life  at  St. Bartholo- 
mew by  avowing  the  Catholic  faith.  When  he 
escaped  from  the  Catholic  court  and  returned  to 
his  mother's  Protestant  court  in  Navarre,  he  es- 
poused with  new  vigor  the  cause  of  his  Protest- 
ant friends.  These  changes  were  of  course  more 
or  less  mortifying,  and  they  certainly  indicated 
a  total  want  of  religious  conviction.  He  now 
promised  carefully  to  look  at  the  arguments  on 
both  sides  of  the  question,  and  to  choose  delib- 
erately that  which  should  seem  to  him  right. 
This  arrangement,  however,  did  not  suit  the 
more  zealous  of  the  Catholics,  and,  in  great  num- 
bers, they  abandoned  his  camp  and  passed  over 
to  the  League. 

The  news  of  the  death  of  Henry  III.  was  re- 
ceived with  unbounded  exultation  in  the  be- 
sieged city.  The  Duchess  of  Montpensier  threw 
her  arms  around  the  neck  of  the  messenger 
who  brought  her  the  welcome  tidings,  exclaim- 
ing. 

"  Ah !   my  friend,  is  it  true  ?    Is  the  monster 


i>44  KING  HENRY  IV.          [1589. 


News  of  the  death  of  Henry  III. 


really  dead  ?  What  a  gratification !  I  am  only 
grieved  to  think  that  he  did  not  know  that  it 
was  I  who  directed  the  blow." 

She  rode  out  immediately,  that  she  might 
have  the  pleasure  herself  of  communicating  the 
intelligence.  She  drove  through  the  streets, 
shouting  from  her  carriage,  "  Good  news  !  good 
news !  the  tyrant  is  dead."  The  joy  of  the 
priests  rose  to  the  highest  pitch  of  fanatical  fer- 
vor. The  assassin  was  eve"n  canonized.  The 
Pope  himself  condescended  to  pronounce  a  eu- 
logium  upon  the  "martyr"  and  a  statue  was 
erected  to  his  memory,  with  the  inscription,"  St. 
Jaques  Clement,  pray  for  us." 

The  League  now  proclaimed  as  king  the  old 
Cardinal  of  Bourbon,  under  the  title  of  Charles 
X.,  and  nearly  all  of  Catholic  Europe  rallied 
around  this  pretender  to  the  crown.  No  one 
denied  the  validity  of  the  title,  according  to  the 
principles  of  legitimacy,  of  Henry  IV.  His 
rights,  however,  the  Catholics  deemed  forfeited 
by  his  Protestant  tendencies.  Though  Henry 
immediately  issued  a  decree  promising  every 
surety  and  support  to  the  Catholic  religion  as 
the  established  religion  of  France,  still,  as  he 
did  not  also  promise  to  devote  all  his  energies 
to  the  extirpation  of  the  heresy  of  Protestant- 


1589.J       THE   ASSASSINATION.  245 


Abandoned  By  the  Catholics. 


ism,  the  great  majority  of  the  Catholics  were 
dissatisfied. 

Epernon,  one  of  the  most  conspicuous  of  the 
Catholic  leaders,  at  the  head  of  many  thousand 
Catholic  soldiers,  waited- upon  the  king  imme- 
diately after  the  death  of  Henry  III.,  and  in- 
formed him  that  they  could  not  maintain  a  Prot- 
estant on  the  throne.  With  flying  banners  and 
resounding  bugles  they  then  marched  from  the 
camp  and  joined  the  League.  So  extensive 
was  this  disaffection,  that  in  one  day  Henry 
found  himself  deserted  by  all  his  army  except 
six  thousand,  most  of  whom  were  Protestants. 
Nearly  thirty  thousand  men  had  abandoned 
him,  some  to  retire  to  their  homes,  and  others 
to  join  the  enemy. 

The  army  of  the  League  within  the  capital 
was  now  twenty  thousand  strong.  They  pre- 
pared for  a  rush  upon  the  scattered  and  broken 
ranks  of  Henry  IV.  Firmly,  fearlessly,  and 
with  well  matured  plans,  he  ordered  a  prompt 
retreat.  Catholic  Europe  aroused  itself  in  be- 
half of  the  League.  Henry  appealed  to  Prot- 
estant Europe  to  come  to  his  aid.  Elizabeth 
of  England  responded  promptly  to  his  appeal, 
and  promised  to  send  a  fleet  and  troops  to  the 
harbor  of  Dieppe,  about  one  hundred  miles 


246  KING   HENRY   IV.          [1589. 

The  retreat.  The  stand  at  Dieppe. 

northwest  of  Paris,  upon  the  shores  of  the  En- 
glish Channel.  Firmly,  and  with  concentrated 
ranks,  the  little  army  of  Protestants  crossed  the 
Seine.  Twenty  thousand  Leaguers  eagerly 
pursued  them,  watching  in  vain  for  a  chance  to 
strike  a  deadly  blow.  Henry  ate  not,  slept  not, 
rested  not.  Night  and  .day,  day  and  night,  he 
was  every  where  present,  guiding,  encouraging, 
protecting  this  valiant  band.  Planting  a  rear 
guard  upon  the  western  banks  of  the  Seine,  the 
chafing  foe  was  held  in  check  until  the  Royalist 
army  had  retired  beyond  the  Oise.  Upon  the 
farther  banks  of  this  stream  Henry  again  rear- 
ed his  defenses,  thwarting  every  endeavor  of 
his  enemies,  exasperated  by  such  unexpected 
discomfiture. 

As  Henry  slowly  retreated  toward  the  sea, 
all  the  Protestants  of  the  region  through  whioh 
lie  passed,  and  many  of  the  moderate  Catholics 
who  were  in  favor  of  the  royal  cause  and  hos- 
tile to  the  house  of  Guise,  flocked  to  his  stand- 
ard. He  soon  found  himself,  with  seven  thou- 
sand very  determined  men,  strongly  posted  be- 
hind the  ramparts  of  Dieppe. 

But  the  Duke  of  Mayenne  had  also  received 
large  accessions.  The  spears  and  banners  of 
his  proud  host,  now  numbering  thirty-five  thou- 


1589.]       THE   ASSASSINATION.  247 

Henry  urged  to  fly  to  England.  Anecdote. 

sand,  gleamed  from  all  the  hills  and  valleys 
which  surrounded  the  fortified  city.  For  near- 
ly a  month  there  was  almost  an  incessant  con- 
flict. Every  morning,  with  anxious  eyes,  the 
Royalists  scanned  the  watery  horizon,  hoping  to 
see  the  fleet  of  England  coming  to  their  aid. 
Cheered  by  hope,  they  successfully,  beat  back 
their  assailants.  The  toils  of  the  king  were 
immense.  With  exalted  military  genius  he 
guided  every  movement,  at  the  same  time  shar- 
ing the  toil  of  the  humblest  soldier.  "It  is  a 
marvel,"  he  wrote,  "  how  I  live  with  the  labor 
I  undergo.  God  have  pity  upon  me,  and  show 
me  mercy." 

Some  of  Henry's  friends,  apalled  by  the 
strength  of  the  army  pursuing  them,  urged  him 
to  embark  and  seek  refuge  in  England. 

"Here  we  are,"  Henry  replied,  "in  France, 
and  here  let  us  be  buried.  If  we  fly  now,  all 
our  hopes  will  vanish  with  the  wind  which 
bears  us." 

In  a  skirmish,  one  day,  one  of  the  Catholic 
chieftains,  the  Count  de  Belin,  was  taken  cap- 
tive. He  was  led  to  the  head-quarters  of  the 
king.  Henry  greeted  him  with  perfect  cordial- 
ity, and,  noticing  the  astonishment  of  the  count 
in  seeing  but  a  few  scattered  soldiers  where  he 


248  KING   HENRY   IV.          [1589. 


Arrival  of  the  fleet  from  England. 


had  expected  to  see  a  numerous  army,  he  said, 
playfully,  yet  with  a  confident  air, 

"  You  do  not  perceive  all  that  I  have  with 
me,  M.  de  Belin,  for  you  do  not  reckon  God  and 
the  right  on  my  side." 

The  indomitable  energy  of  Henry,  accompa- 
nied by  a  countenance  ever  serene  and  cheerful 
under  circumstances  apparently  so  desperate, 
inspired  the  soldiers  with  the  same  intrepidity 
which  glowed  in  the  bosom  of  their  chief. 

But  at  last  the  valiant  little  band,  so  bravely 
repelling  overwhelming  numbers,  saw,  to  their 
inexpressible  joy,  the  distant  ocean  whitened 
with  the  sails  of  the  approaching  English  fleet. 
Shouts  of  exultation  rolled  along  their  exhaust- 
ed lines,  carrying  dismay  into  the  camp  of  the 
Leaguers.  A  favorable  wind  pressed  the  fleet 
rapidly  forward,  and  in  a  few  hours,  with  stream- 
ing banners,  and  exultant  music,  and  resound- 
ing salutes,  echoed  and  re-echoed  from  English 
ships  and  French  batteries,  the  fleet  of  Eliza- 
beth, loaded  to  its  utmost  capacity  with  money, 
military  supplies,  and  men,  cast  anchor  in  the 
little  harbor  of  Dieppe. 

Nearly  six  thousand  men,  Scotch  and  En- 
glish, were  speedily  disembarked.  The  Duke 
of  Mayenne,  though  his  army  was  still  double 


1589.]       THE   ASSASSINATION.          249 

Bigotry  of  the  Catholics.  Desolation  of  France. 

that  of  Henry  IV.,  did  not  dare  to  await  the  on- 
set of  his  foes  thus  recruited.  Hastily  break- 
ing up  his  encampment,  he  retreated  to  Paris. 
Henry  IV.,  in  gratitude  to  God  for  the  succor 
which  he  had  thus  received  from  the  Protestant 
Queen  of  England,  directed  that  thanksgivings 
should  be  offered  in  his  own  quarters  according 
to  the  religious  rites  of  the  Protestant  Church. 
This  so  exasperated  the  Catholics,  even  in  his 
own  camp,  that  a  mutiny  was  excited,  and  sev- 
eral of  the  Protestant  soldiers  were  wounded  in 
the  fray.  So  extreme  was  the  fanaticism  at 
this  time  that,  several  Protestants,  after  a  san- 
guinary fight,  having  been  buried  on  the  battle- 
field promiscuously  in  a  pit  with  some  Catho- 
lics who  had  fallen  by  their  side,  the  priests, 
even  of  Henry's  army,  ordered  the  Protestant 
bodies  to  be  dug  up  and  thrown  out  as  food  for 
dogs. 

While  these  scenes  were  transpiring  in  the 
vicinity  of  Dieppe,  almost  every  part  of  France 
was  scathed  and  cursed  by  hateful  war.  Every 
province,  city,  village,  had  its  partisans  for  the 
League  or  for  the  king.  Beautiful  France  was 
as  a  volcano  in  the  world  of  woe,  in  whose 
seething  crater  flames,  and  blood,  and  slaughter, 
the  yell  of  conflict  and  the  shriek  of  agony, 


250  KING   HENRY   IV.          [1580. 


Ignoble  conduct  of  the  League. 


blended  in  horrors  which  no  imagination  can 
compass.  There  was  an  end  to  every  earthly 
joy.  Cities  were  bombarded,  fields  of  grain 
trampled  in  the  mire,  villages  burned.  Famine 
rioted  over  its  ghastly  victims.  Hospitals  were 
filled  with  miserable  multitudes,  mutilated  and 
with  festering  wounds,  longing  for  death.  Not 
a  ray  of  light  pierced  the  gloom  of  this  dark, 
black  night  of  crime  and  woe.  And  yet,  unde- 
niably, the  responsibility  before  God  must  rest 
with  the  League.  Henry  IV.  was  the  lawful 
king  of  France.  The  Catholics  had  risen  in 
arms  to  resist  his  rights,  because  they  feared 
that  he  would  grant  liberty  of  faith  and  wor- 
ship to  the  Protestants. 

The  League  adopted  the  most  dishonorable 
and  criminal  means  to  alienate  from  Henry  the 
affections  of  the  people.  They  forged  letters, 
in  which  the  king  atrociously  expressed  joy  at 
the  murder  of  Henry  III.,  and  declared  his  de- 
termination by  dissimulation  and  fraud  to  root 
out  Catholicism  entirely  from  France.  No  ef- 
forts of  artifice  were  wanting  to  render  the  mon- 
arch odious  to  the  Catholic  populace.  Though 
the  Duke  of  Mayenne  occasionally  referred  to 
the  old  Cardinal  of  Bourbon  as  the  king  whom 
he  acknowledged,  he,  with  the  characteristic 


1589.J       THE  ASSASSINATION.  251 

Paris  besieged.  Assault  of  Etampes. 

haughtiness  of  the  family  of  Guise,  assumed 
himself  the  air  and  the  language  of  a  sovereign. 
It  was  very  evident  that  he  intended  to  place 
himself  upon  the  throne. 

Henry  IV.,  with  the  money  furnished  by 
Elizabeth,  was  now  able  to  pay  his  soldiers 
their  arrears.  His  army  steadily  increased, 
and  he  soon  marched  with  twenty-three  thou- 
sand troops  and  fourteen  pieces  of  artillery  to 
lay  siege  to  Paris.  His  army  had  unbounded 
confidence  in  his  military  skill.  With  enthu- 
siastic acclamations  they  pursued  the  retreat- 
ing insurgents.  Henry  was  now  on  the  offens- 
ive, and  his  troops  were  posted  for  the  siege  of 
Paris,  having  driven  the  foe  within  its  walls. 
After  one  sanguinary  assault,  the  king  became 
convinced  that  he  had  not  with  him  sufficient 
force  to  carry  the  city.  The  Duke  of  Mayenne 
stood  firmly  behind  the  intrenchments  of  the 
capital,  with  an  army  much  strengthened  by 
re-enforcements  of  Spanish  and  Italian  troops. 
Henry  accordingly  raised  the  siege,  and  march- 
ed rapidly  to  Etampes,  some  forty  miles  south 
of  Paris,  where  a  large  part  of  his  foes  had  es- 
tablished themselves.  He  suddenly  attacked 
the  town  and  carried  it  by  assault.  The  un- 
happy inhabitants  of  this  city  had,  in  the  course 


252  KING   HENRY   IV.          [1589. 

Letter  from  Lorraine.  Military  reprisals. 

of  four  months,  experienced  the  horrors  of  three 
assaults.  The  city,  in  that  short  period,  had 
been  taken  and  retaken  three  times. 

While  at  Etampes,  Hemy  received  a  letter 
from  the  beautiful  but  disconsolate  Louisa  of 
Lorraine,  the  widow  of  Henry  III.,  imploring 
him  to  avenge  the  murder  of  her  husband.  The 
letter  was  so  affecting  that,  when  it  was  read 
in  the  king's  council,  it  moved  all  the  members 
to  tears. 

Many  of  the  citizens  of  Paris,  weary  of  the 
miseries  of  civil  war,  were  now  disposed  to  ral- 
ly around  their  lawful  monarch  as  the  only 
mode  of  averting  the  horrible  calamities  which 
overwhelmed  France.  The  Duke  of  Mayenne 
rigorously  arrested  all  who  were  suspected  of 
such  designs,  and  four  of  the  most  prominent 
of  the  citizens  were  condemned  to  death.  Hen- 
ry immediately  sent  a  message  to  the  duke,  that 
if  the  sentence  were  carried  into  effect,  he  would 
retaliate  by  putting  to  death  some  of  the  Cath- 
olic nobles  whom  he  had  in  his  power.  May- 
enne defiantly  executed  two  Royalists.  Henry 
immediately  suspended  upon  a  gibbet  two  un- 
fortunate Leaguers  who  were  his  captives.  This 
decisive  reprisal  accomplished  its  purpose,  and 
compelled  Mayenne  to  be  more  merciful. 


1589.]       THE   ASSASSINATION.  253 

Act  vity  of  Henry.  Dissension  among  the  Leaguers. 

With  great  energy,  Henry  now  advanced  to 
Tours,  about  one  hundred  and  twenty  miles 
south  of  Paris,  on  the  banks  of  the  Loire,  tak- 
ing every  town  by  the  way,  and  sweeping  all 
opposition  before  him.  He  seldom  slept  more 
than  three  hours  at  a  time,  and  seized  his  meals 
where  he  could. 

"  It  takes  Mayenne,"  said  Henry,  proudly, 
*'  more  time  to  put  on  his  boots  than  it  does  me 
to  win  a  battle." 

"  Henry,"  remarked  Pope  Sextus  V.,  sadly, 
"will  surely,  in  the  end,  gain  the  day,  for  he 
spends  less  hours  in  bed  than  Mayenne  spends 
at  the  table." 

Though  the  armies  of  the  League  were  still 
superior  to  the  Royalist  army,  victory  every 
where  followed  the  banner  of  the  king.  Every 
day  there  was  more  and  more  of  union  and  har- 
mony in  his  ranks,  and  more  and  more  of  dis- 
cord in  the  armies  of  the  League. .  There  were 
variou^  aspirants  for  the  throne  in  case  Henry 
IV.  could  be  driven  from  the  kingdom,  and  all 
these  aspirants  had  their  partisans.  The  more 
reasonable  portion  of  the  Catholic  party  soon 
saw  that  there  could  be  no  end  to  civil  war  un- 
less the  rights  of  Henry  IV.  were  maintained. 
Each  day  consequently  witnessed  accessions  of 


254  KING   HENRY   IV.          [1589. 


Triumphant  progress  of  Henry. 


powerful  nobles  to  his  side.  The  great  mass 
of  the  people  also,  notwithstanding  their  hatred 
of  Protestantism  and  devotion  to  the  Catholic 
Church,  found  it  difficult  to  break  away  from 
their  homage  to  the  ancient  law  of  succession. 

It  was  now  manifest  to  all,  that  if  Henry 
would  but  proclaim  himself  a  Catholic,  the  war 
would  almost  instantly  terminate,  and  the  peo- 
ple, with  almost  entire  unanimity,  would  rally 
around  him.  Henry  IV.  was  a  lawful  monarch 
endeavoring  to  put  down  insurrection.  May- 
enne  was  a  rebel  contending  against  his  king. 
The  Pope  was  so  unwilling  to  see  a  Protestant 
sovereign  enthroned  in  France,  that  he  issued  a 
bull  of  excommunication  against  all  who  should 
advocate  the  cause  of  Henry  IV.  Many  of  t lie 
Royalist  Catholics,  however,  instead  of  yielding 
to  these  thunders  of  the  Vatican,  sent  a  humble 
apology  to  the  Pope  for  their  adherence  to  the 
king,  and  still  sustained  his  cause. 

Henry  now  moved  on  with  the  strides  of  a 
conqueror,  and  city  after  city  fell  into  his  hands. 
Wherever  he  entered  a  city,  the  ever  vacillating 
multitude  welcomed  him  with  acclamations.  Re- 
gardless of  the  storms  of  winter,  Henry  drag- 
ged his  heavy  artillery  through  the  mire  and 
over  the  frozen  ruts,  and  before  the  close  of  the 


1589.]       THE  ASSASSINATION.  255 


Wonderful  escape. 


year  1589  his  banner  waved  over  fifteen  forti- 
fied cities  and  over  very  many  minor  towns. 
The  forces  of  the  League  were  entirely  swept 
from  three  of  the  provinces  of  France. 

Still  Paris  was  in  the  hands  of  the  Duke  of 
Mayenne,  and  a  large  part  of  the  kingdom  was 
yet  held  in  subjection  by  the  forces  of  the 
League. 

At  one  time,  in  the  face  of  a  fierce  cannon- 
ade, Henry  mounted  the  tower  of  a  church  at 
Meulun  to  ascertain  the  position  of  the  enemy. 
As  he  was  ascending,  <a  cannon  ball  passed  be- 
tween his  legs.  In  returning,  the  stairs  were 
found  so  shot  away  that  he  was  compelled  to 
let  himself  down  by  'a  rope.  All  the  winter 
long,  the  storm  of  battle  raged  in  every  part  of 
France,  and  among  all  the  millions  of  the  ill- 
fated  realm,  there  could  not  then,  perhaps,  have 
been  found  one  single  prosperous  and  happy 
home. 


256  KING   HENRY   IV.          [1590. 


Ferocity  of  the  combatants. 


CHAPTER  X. 
WAR  AND  WOE. 

CIVIL  war  seems  peculiarly  to  arouse  the 
ferocity  of  man.  Family  quarrels  are  no- 
toriously implacable.  Throughout  the  whole 
kingdom  of  France  the  war  raged  with  intense 
violence,  brother  against  brother,  and  father 
against  child.  Farm-houses,  cities,  villages, 
were  burned  mercilessly.  Old  men,  women, 
and  children  were  tortured  and  slain  with  in- 
sults and  derision.  Maiden  modesty  was  cru- 
elly violated,  and  every  species  of  inhumanity 
was  practiced  by  the  infuriated  antagonists. 
The  Catholic  priests  were  in  general  conspicu-  - 
ous  for  their  brutality.  They  resolved  that 
the  Protestant  heresy  should  be  drowned  in 
blood  and  terror. 

Henry  IV.  was  peculiarly  a  humane  man. 
He  cherished  kind  feelings  for  all  his  subjects, 
and  was  perfectly  willing  that  the  Catholic  re- 
ligion should  retain  its  unquestioned  suprema- 
cy. His  pride,  however,  revolted  from  yielding 
to  compulsory  conversion,  and  he  also  refused 


1590.]  WAR   AND   WOE.  257 

Liberality  of  Henry.  Preparations  for  a  battle. 

to  become  the  persecutor  of  his  former  friends. 
Indeed,  it  seems  probable  that  he  was  strongly 
inclined  toward  the  Catholic  faith  as,  on  the 
whole,  the  safest  and  the  best.  He  consequent- 
ly did  every  thing  in  his  power  to  mitigate  the 
mercilessness  of  the  strife,  and  to  win  his  Cath- 
•  olic  subjects  by  the  most  signal  clemency.  But 
no  efforts  of  his  could  restrain  his  partisans  in 
different  parts  of  the  kingdom  from  severe  re- 
taliation. 

Through  the  long  months  of  a  cold  and  dreary 
winter  the  awful  carnage  continued,  with  suc- 
cess so  equally  balanced  that  there  was  no  pros- 
pect of  any  termination  to  this  most  awful  of 
national  calamities.  Early  in  March,  1590,  the 
armies  of  Henry  IV.  and  of  the  Duke  of  May- 
enne  began  to  congregate  in  the  vicinity  of  Ivryt 
about  fifty  miles  west  of  Paris,  for  a  decisive 
battle.  The  snows  of  winter  had  nearly  disap- 
peared, and  the  cold  rains  of  spring  deluged  the 
roads.  The  Sabbath  of  the  eleventh  of  March 
was  wet  and  tempestuous.  As  night  darkened 
over  the  bleak  and  soaked  plains  of  Ivry,  innu- 
merable battalions  of  armed  men,  with  spears, 
and  banners,  and  heavy  pieces  of  artillery,  drag- 
ged axle-deep  through  the  mire,  were  dimly  dis- 
cerned taking  positions  for  an  approaching  bat- 

13—17 


258  KING  HENRY   IV.          [1590. 

•Striking  phenomenon.  The  omen. 

tie.  As  the  blackness  of  midnight  enveloped 
them,  the  storm  increased  to  fearful  fury.  The 
gale  fiercely  swept  the  plain,  in  its  loud  wail- 
ings  and  its  roar  drowning  every  human  sound. 
The  rain,  all  the  night  long,  poured  down  in 
torrents.  But  through  the  darkness  and  the 
storm,  and  breasting  the  gale,  the  contending 
hosts,  without  even  a  watch-fire  to  cheer  the 
gloom,  waited  anxiously  for  the  morning. 

In  the  blackest  hour  of  the  night,  a  phenom- 
enon, quite  unusual  at  that  season  of  the  year, 
presented  itself.  The  lightning  gleamed  in  daz- 
zling brilliance  from  cloud  to  cloud,  and  the 
thunder  rolled  over  their  heads  as  if  an  aerial 
army  were  meeting  and  charging  in  the  sanguin- 
ary fight.  It  was  an  age  of  superstition,  and 
the  shivering  soldiers  thought  that  they  could 
distinctly  discern  the  banners  of  the  battling 
hosts.  Eagerly  and  with  awe  they  watched  the 
surgings  of  the  strife  as  spirit  squadrons  swept 
to  and  fro  with  streaming  banners  of  fire,  and 
hurling  upon  each  other  the  thunderbolts  of  the 
skies.  At  length  the  storm  of  battle  seemed  to 
lull,  or,  rather,  to  pass  away  in  the  distance. 
There  was  the  retreat  of  the  vanquished,  the 
pursuit  of  the  victors.  The  flash  of  the  guns 
became  more  faint,  and  the  roar  of  the  artillery 


1590.]  WAR   AND   WOE.  259 


Night  before  the  battle. 


diminished  as  farther  and  still  farther  the  em- 
battled hosts  vanished  among  the  clouds.  Again 
there  was  the  silence  of  midnight,  and  no  sounds 
were  heard  but  the  plashing  of  the  rain. 

The  Royalists  and  the  insurgents,  each  party 
inflamed  more  or  less  by  religious  fanaticism, 
were  each  disposed  to  regard  the  ethereal  battle 
as  waged  between  the  spirits  of  light  and  the 
spirits  of  darkness,  angels  against  fiends.  Each 
party,  of  course,  imagined  itself  as  represented 
by  the  angel  bands,  which  doubtless  conquered. 
The  phenomenon  was  thus,  to  both,  the  omen 
of  success,  and  inspired  both  with  new  energies. 

The  morning  dawned  gloomily.  Both  armies 
were  exhausted  and  nearly  frozen  by  the  chill 
storm  of  the  night.  Neither  of  the  parties  were 
eager  to  commence  the  fight,  as  each  was  anx- 
ious to  wait  for  re-enforcements,  which  were 
hurrying  forward,  from  distant  posts,  with  the 
utmost  possible  speed.  The  two  next  days 
were  passed  in  various  manoeuvres  to  gain  posts 
of  advantage.  The  night  of  the  13th  came, 
Henry  took  but  two  hours  of  repose  upon  a  mat- 
tress, and  then,  every  thing  being  arranged  ac- 
cording to  his  wishes,  spent  nearly  all  the  rest 
of  the  night  in  prayer.  He  urged  the  Catho- 
lics and  the  Protestants  in  his  army  to  do  the 


260  KIN*  HENRY  IV.          [1590. 


Morning  of  the  battle. 


same,  each  according  to  the  rites  of  his  own 
Church.  The  Catholic  priests  and  the  Protest- 
ant clergy  led  the  devotions  of  their  respective 
bands,  and  there  can  be  no  doubt  whatever  that 
they  implored  the  aid  of  God  with  as  perfect  a 
conviction  of  the  righteousness  of  their  cause  as 
the  human  heart  can  feel. 

And  how  was  it  in  the  army  of  the  Duke  of 
Mayenne  ?  They  also  looked  to  God  for  sup- 
port. The  Pope,  Christ's  vicar  upon  earth,  had 
blessed  their  banners.  He  had  called  upon  all 
of  the  faithful  to  advocate  their  cause.  He  had 
anathematized  their  foes  as  the  enemies  of  God 
and  man,  justly  doomed  to  utter  extermination. 
Can  it  be  doubted  that  the  ecclesiastics  and  the 
soldiers  who  surrounded  the  Duke  of  Mayenne, 
ready  to  lay  down  their  lives  for  the  Church, 
were  also,  many  of  them,  sincere  in  their  sup- 
plications? Such  is  bewildered,  benighted  man. 
When  will  he  imbibe  the  spirit  of  a  noble  toler- 
ation— of  a  kind  brotherhood  ? 

The  morning  of  the  14th  of  March  arrived. 
The  stars  shone  brilliantly  in  the  clear,  cold  sky. 
The  vast  plain  of  Ivry  and  its  surrounding  hills 
gleamed  with  the  camp-fires  of  the  two  armies, 
now  face  to  face.  It  is  impossible  to  estimate 
with  precision  the  two  forces.  It  is  generally 


1590.]  WAR   AND  WOE.  261 


Henry's  address  to  his  army. 


stated  that  Henry  IV.  had  from  ten  to  twelve 
thousand  men,  and  the  Duke  of  Mayenne  from 
sixteen  to  twenty  thousand. 

Before  the  first  glimmer  of  day,  Henry  mount- 
ed his  horse,  a  powerful  bay  charger,  and  riding 
slowly  along  his  lines,  addressed  to  every  com- 
pany words  of  encouragement  and  hope.  His 
spirit  was  subdued  and  his  voice  was  softened 
by  the  influence  of  prayer.  He  attempted  no 
lofty  harangue;  he  gave  utterance  to  no  clar- 
ion notes  of  enthusiasm  ;  but  mildly,  gently, 
with  a  trembling  voice  and  often  with  a  moist- 
ened eye,  implored  them  to  be  true  to  God,  to 
France,  and  to  themselves. 

"  Your  future  fame  and  your  personal  safe- 
ty," said  he,  "  depend  upon  your  heroism  this 
day.  The  crown  of  France  awaits  the  decision 
of  your  swords.  If  we  are  defeated  to-day,  we 
are  defeated  hopelessly,  for  we  have  no  reserves 
upon  which  we  can  fall  back." 

Then  assembling  nearly  all  his  little  band  in 
a  square  around  him,  he  placed  himself  upon  an 
eminence  where  he  could  be  seen  by  all,  and 
where  nearly  all  could  hear  him,  and  then,  with 
clasped  hands  and  eyes  raised  to  Heaven,  offer- 
ed the  following  prayer — a  truly  extraordinary 
prayer,  so  humble  and  so  Christian  in  its  spirit 
of  resignation  : 


262  KING   HENRY   IV.          [1590. 

The  prayer  of  Henry.  Anecdote. 

"  O  God,  I  pray  thee,  who  alone  knowest  the 
intentions  of  man's  heart,  to  do  thy  will  upon 
me  as  thou  shalt  judge  necessary  for  the  weal 
-of  Christendom.  And  wilt  thou  preserve  me  as 
long  as  thou  seest  it  to  be  needful  for  the  hap- 
piness and  the  repose  of  France,  and  no  longer. 
If  thou  dost  see  that  I  should  be  one  of  those 
kings  on  whom  thou  dost  lay  thy  wrath,  take 
my  life  with  my  crown,  and  let  my  blood  be  the 
last  poured  out  in  this  quarrel." 

Then  turning  to  his  troops,  he  said, 

"  Companions,  God  is  with  us.  You  are  to 
meet  His  enemies  and  ours.  If,  in  the  turmoil 
of  the  battle,  you  lose  sight  of  your  banner,  fol- 
low the  white  plume  upon  my  casque.  You 
will  find  it  in  the  road  to  victory  and  honor." 

But  a  few  hours  before  this,  General  Schom- 
berg,  who  was  in  command  of  the  auxiliaries 
furnished  to  Henry  by  Germany,  urged  by  the 
importunity  of  his  troops,  ventured  to  ask  for 
their  pay,  which  was  in  arrears.  Henry,  irri- 
tated, replied, 

"  A  man  of  courage  would  not  ask  for  money 
on  the  eve  of  a  battle. " 

The  words  had  no  sooner  escaped  his  lips 
than  he  regretted  them.  Henry  now  rode  to 
the  quarters  of  this  veteran  officer,  and  thus 
magnanimously  addressed  him  : 


1590.J  WAR   AND   WOE.  263. 

Magnanimity  of  Henry.  The  battle  of  Ivry. 

"  General  Schomberg,  I  have  insulted  you. 
As  this  day  may  be  the  last  of  my  life,  I  would 
not  carry  away  the  honor  of  a  gentleman  and  be 
unable  to  restore  it.  I  know  your  valor,  and 
I  ask  your  pardon.  I  beseech  you  to  forgive 
me  and  embrace  me." 

This  was  true  magnanimity.  General  Schom- 
berg nobly  replied, 

"  Sire,  you  did,  indeed,  wound  me  yesterday, 
but  to-day  you  kill  me.  The  honor  you  have 
done  me  will  lead  me  to  lay  down  my  life  in, 
your  service." 

A  terrible  battle  immediately  ensued.  All 
fought  bravely,  ferociously,  infernally.  Love 
and  peace  are  the  elements  of  heaven.  Hatred 
and  war  are  the  elements  of  hell.  Man,  upon 
the  battle-field,  even  in  a  good  cause,  must  call 
to  his  aid  the  energies  of  the  world  of  woe. 
Rushing  squadrons  swept  the  field,  crushing  be- 
neath iron  hoofs  the  dying  and  the  dead.  Grape- 
shot  mowed  down  the  crowded  ranks,  splinter- 
ing bones,  and  lacerating  nerves,  and  extorting 
shrieks  of  agony  which  even  the  thunders  of  the 
battle  could  not  drown.  Henry  plunged  into 
the  thickest  of  the  fight,  every  where  exposing 
himself  to  peril  like  the  humblest  soldier.  The 
conflict  was  too  desperate  to  be  lasting.  In 


264  KING   HENRY   IV.          [1590. 

Heroism  of  Henry.  The  Leaguers  vanquished. 

less  than  an  hour  the  field  of  battle  was  crimson 
with  blood  and  covered  with  mangled  corpses. 

The  Leaguers  began  to  waver.  They  broke 
and  fled  in  awful  confusion.  The  miserable 
fugitives  were  pursued  and  cut  down  by  the 
keen  swords  of  the  cavalry,  while  from  every 
eminence  the  cannon  of  the  victors  plowed  their 
retreating  ranks  with  balls.  Henry  himself 
headed  the  cavalry  in  the  impetuous  pursuit, 
that  the  day  might  be  the  more  decisive.  When 
he  returned,  covered  with  blood,  he  was  greeted 
from  his  triumphant  ranks  with  the  shout,  Vive 
le  roi  ! 

Marshal  Biron,  with  a  powerful  reserve,  had 
remained  watching  the  progress  of  the  fight, 
ready  to  avail  himself  of  any  opportunity  which 
might  present  to  promote  or  to  increase  the  dis- 
comfiture of  the  foe.  He  now  joined  the  mon- 
arch, saying, 

"  This  day,  sire,  you  have  performed  the  part 
of  Marshal  Biron,  and  Marshal  Biron  that  of 
the  king." 

"  Let  us  praise  God,  marshal,"  answered 
Henry,  "for  the  victory  is  his." 

The  routed  army  fled  with  the  utmost  pre- 
cipitation in  two  directions,  one  division  toward 
Chartres  and  the  other  toward  Ivry.  The  whole 


1590.J  WAR   AND   WOE.  265 

Flight  of  tho  Leaguers.  Detestable  conduct  of  Mayenne. 

Royalist  army  hung  upon  their  rear,  assailing 
them  with  every  available  missile  of  destruc- 
tion. The  Duke  of  Mayenne  fled  across  the 
Eure.  Thousands  of  his  broken  bands  were 
crowding  the  shore,  striving  to  force  their  way 
across  the  thronged  bridge,  when  the  Royalist 
cavalry,  led  by  the  monarch  himself,  was  seen 
in  the  distance  spurring  furiously  over  the  hills. 
Mayenne  himself  having  passed,  in  order  to  se- 
cure his  own  safety,  cruelly  gave  the  command 
to  destroy  the  bridge,  leaving  the  unhappy  men 
who  had  not  yet  crossed  at  the  mercy  of  the 
victors.  The  bridge  was  immediately  blown 
up.  Many  of  those  thus  abandoned,  in  their 
terror  cast  themselves  into  the  flooded  stream, 
where  multitudes  were  drowned.  Others  shot 
their  horses  and  built  a  rampart  of  their  bodies. 
Behind  this  revolting  breastwork  they  defended 
themselves,  until,  one  after  another,  they  all  fell 
beneath  the  sabres  and  the  bullets  of  the  Prot- 
estants. In  this  dreadful  retreat  more  than  two 
thousand  were  put  to  the  sword,  large  numbers 
were  drowned,  and  many  were  taken  captive. 

In  this  day,  so  glorious  to  the  Royalist  cause, 
more  than  one  half  of  the  army  of  the  Leaguers 
were  either  slain  or  taken  prisoners.  Though 
the  Duke  of  Mayenne  escaped,  many  of  his  best 


266  KING   HENRY   IV.          [1590. 


Lines  on  the  battle  of  Ivry. 


generals  perished  upon  the  field  of  battle  or  were 
captured.  It  is  reported  that  Henry  shouted  to 
his  victorious  troops  as  they  were  cutting  down 
the  fugitives,  "  Spare  the  French  ;  they  are  our 
brethren." 

This  celebrated  battle  has  often  been  the 
theme  of  the  poet.  But  no  one  has  done  the 
subject  better  justice  than  Mr.  Macaulay  in  the 
following  spirited  lines.  They  are  intended  to 
express  the  feelings  of  a  Huguenot  soldier. 

THE  BATTLE  OF  IVRY. 

"The  king  has  come  to  marshal  us,  all  in  his  armor  dressed. 
And  he  has  bound  a  snow-white  plume  upon  his  gallant 

crest. 

He  looked  upon  his  people,  and  a  tear  was  in  his  eye ; 
He  looked  upon  the  traitors,  and  his  glance  was  stern  and 

high. 
Bight  graciously  he  smiled  on  us,  as  rolled  from  wing  to 

wing, 
Down  all  our  line,  a  deafening  shout,  '  God  save  our  lord 

the  king !' 

'  And  if  my  standard-bearer  fall,  as  fall  full  well  he  may, 
For  never  saw  I  promise  yet  of  such  a  bloody  fray, 
Press  where  ye  see  my  white  plume  shine,  amid  the  ranks 

of  war, 
And  be  your  orinamme  to-day  the  helmet  of  Navarre.' 

" '  Hurrah !  the  foes  are  coming !     Hark  to  the  mingled 

din 

Of  fife  and  steed,  and  trump  and  drum,  and  roaring  cul- 
verin! 


1590.]  WAR  AND  WOE.  267 


Lines  on  the  battle  of  Ivry. 


The  fiery  duke  is  pricking  fast  across  St.  Andre's  plain, 

With  all  the  hireling  chivalry  of  Guelders  and  Almagne. 

Now,  by  the  lips  of  those  we  love,  fair  gentlemen  of  France, 

Charge  for  the  golden  lilies  now  —  upon  them  with  the 
lance!' 

A  thousand  spurs  are  striking  deep,  a  thousand  spears  in 
rest, 

A  thousand  knights  are  pressing  close  behind  the  snow- 
white  crest. 

And  on  they  burst,  and  on  they  rushed,  while,  like  a  guid- 
ing star, 

Amid  the  thickest  carnage  blazed  the  helmet  of  Navarre. 

*'  Now,  God  be  praised,  the  day  is  ours !  Mayenne  hath  turn- 
ed his  rein, 

D'Aumale  hath  cried  for  quarter,  the  Flemish  count  is 
slain ; 

Their  ranks  are  breaking  like  thin  clouds  before  a  Biscay 
gale; 

The  field  is  heaped  with  bleeding  steeds,  and  flags,  and 
cloven  mail. 

And  then  we  thought  on  vengeance,  and  all  along  our  van, 

'Remember  St.  Bartholomew,'  was  passed  from  man  to 
man; 

But  out  spake  gentle  Henry,  'No  Frenchman  is  my  foe; 

Down — down  with  every  foreigner !  but  let  your  brethren 

g°-' 

Oh,  was  there  ever  such  a  knight,  in  friendship  or  in  war, 
As  our  sovereign  lord  King  Henry,  the   soldier  of  Na- 
varre?" 

This  decisive  battle  established  Henry  on  the 
throne.  Mayenne  still  held  Paris,  and  many 
other  important  fortresses  in  other  parts  of 


268  KING   HENRY   IV.          [1590. 

Paris  in  consternation.  Inexplicable  delay. 

France ;  but  his  main  army  was  defeated  and 
dispersed,  and  he  could  no  longer  venture  to 
encounter  Henry  in  the  open  field.  Having 
thrown  some  additional  forces  into  Paris,  which 
city  he  knew  that  Henry  would  immediately  be- 
aiege,  he  fled  to  Flanders  to  obtain  re-enforce- 
ments. 

Paris  was  in  consternation.     Not  a  town  in 

its  vicinity  could  resist  the  conqueror.  Henry 
was  but, two  days'  march  from  his  rebellious 
capital.  The  Leaguers  could  hope  for  no  aid 
for  many  weeks.  The  Royalist  cause  had  many 
friends  among  the  Parisians,  eager  for  an  oppor- 
tunity to  raise  within  their  walls  the  banner  of 
their  lawful  sovereign. 

Henry  had  now  the  entire  command  of  the 
Seine  from  Rouen  to  Paris.  Had  he  immedi- 
ately marched  upon  the  capital,  there  can  be  no 
doubt  that  it  would  have  been  compelled  to  sur- 
render; but,  for  some  reason  which  has  never 
been  satisfactorily  explained,  he  remained  for  a 
fortnight  within  one  day's  march  of  the  field  of 
Ivry.  Various  causes  have  been  surmised  for 
this  unaccountable  delay,  but  there  is  no  au- 
thentic statement  to  be  found  in  any  letters 
written  by  Henry,  or  in  any  contemporaneous 
records.  The  time,  however,  thus  lost,  what- 


1590.]  WAR  AND  WOE.  269 

Magnanimity  to  the  Swiss  Catholics. 

ever  might  have  been  the  cause,  proved  to  him  a 
terrible  calamity.  The  partisans  of  the  League 
in  the  city  had  time  to  recover  from  their  panic, 
to  strengthen  their  defenses,  and  to  collect  sup- 
plies. 

One  act  of  magnanimity  which  Henry  per- 
formed during  this  interval  is  worthy  of  record. 
Two  regiments  of  Swiss  Catholics,  who  had  been 
sent  to  fight  beneath  the  banners  of  Mayenne, 
had  surrendered  to  the  royal  forces.  They  were 
for  a  few  d?ys  intensely  anxious  respecting  their 
fate.  Henry  restored  to  them  their  ensigns, 
furnished  them  with  money,  supplied  them  with 
provisions,  and  sent  them  back  to  their  native 
country.  He  gave  them  a  letter  to  the  Swiss 
cantons,  with  dignity  reproaching  them  for  their 
violation  of  the  friendly  treaty  existing  between 
Switzerland  and  the  crown  of  France. 

It  was  not  until  the  28th  of  March  that  Hen- 
ry appeared  before  the  walls  of  Paris.  By  this 
time  the  Leaguers  had  made  preparations  to  re- 
sist him.  Provisions  and  military  stores  had 
been  accumulated.  Troops  had  been  hurried 
into  the  city,  and  arrangements  were  made  to 
hold  out  till  Mayenne  could  bring  them  succor. 
Now  a  siege  was  necessary,  with  all  its  accom- 
paniments of  blood  and  woe.  There  were  now 


270  KING  HENRY   IV.          [1590. 

Paris  blockaded.  Death  of  the  Cardinal  of  Bourbon. 

fifty  thousand  fighting  men  in  the  city  when 
Henry  commenced  the  siege  with  but  twelve 
thousand  foot  and  three  thousand  horse. 

In  this  emergence  the  energy  of  Henry  re- 
turned. He  took  possession  of  the  river  above 
and  below  the  city.  Batteries  were  reared  upon 
the  heights  of  Montmartre  and  Montfa^on,  and 
cannon  balls,  portentous  of  the  rising  storm,  be- 
gan to  fall  in  the  thronged  streets  of  the  me- 
tropolis. In  the  midst  of  this  state  of  things 
the  old  Cardinal  of  Bourbon  died.  The  Leag- 
uers had  pronounced  him  king  under  the  title 
of  Charles  X.  The  insurgents,  discomfited  in 
battle,  and  with  many  rival  candidates  ambi- 
tious of  the  crown,  were  not  in  a  condition  to  at- 
tempt to  elect  another  monarch.  They  thought 
it  more  prudent  to  combine  and  fight  for  vic- 
tory, postponing  until  some  future  day  their 
choice  of  a  king.  The  Catholic  priests  were  al- 
most universally  on  their  side,  and  urged  them, 
by  all  the  most  sacred  importunities  of  religion, 
rather  to  die  than  to  allow  a  heretic  to  ascend 
the  throne  of  France. 

Day  after  day  the  siege  continued.  There 
were  bombardments,  and  conflagrations,  and  sal- 
lies, and  midnight  assaults,  and  all  the  tumult, 
and  carnage,  and  woe  of  horrid  war.  Three 


1590.J  WAR   AND   WOE.  271 

Horrors  of  famine.  Kindness  of  Henry. 

hundred  thousand  men,  women,  and  children 
were  in  the  beleaguered  city.  All  supplies  were 
cut  off.  Famine  commenced  its  ravages.  The 
wheat  became  exhausted,  and  they  ate  bran. 
The  bran  was  all  consumed,  and  the  haggard 
citizens  devoured  the  dogs  and  the  cats.  Starv- 
ation came.  On  parlor  floors  and  on  the  hard 
pavement  emaciate  forms  were  stretched  in  the 
convulsions  of  death.  The  shrieks  of  women 
and  children  in  their  dying  agonies  fell  in  tones 
horrible  to  hear  upon  the  ears  of  the  besiegers. 
The  tender  heart  of  Henry  was  so  moved  by 
the  sufferings  which  he  was  unwillingly  instru- 
mental in  inflicting,  that  he  allowed  some  pro- 
visions to  be  carried  into  the  city,  though  he 
thus  protracted  the  siege.  He  hoped  that  this 
humanity  would  prove  to  his  foes  that  he  did 
not  seek  revenge.  The  Duke  of  Nemours,  who 
conducted  the  defense,  encouraged  by  this  un- 
military  humanity,  that  he  might  relieve  him- 
self from  the  encumbrance  of  useless  mouths, 
drove  several  thousands  out  of  the  city.  Hen- 
ry, with  extraordinary  clemency,  allowed  three 
thousand  to  pass  through  the  ranks  of  his  army. 
He  nobly  said,  "I  can  not  bear  to  think  of  their 
sufferings.  I  had  rather  conquer  my  foes  by 
kindness  than  by  arms. "  But  the  number  still 


272  KING   HENRY   IV.          [1590. 

Murmurs  in  Parirf.  The  assault. 

increasing,  and  the  inevitable  effect  being  only 
to  enable  the  combatants  to  hold  out  more  stub- 
bornly, Henry  reluctantly  ordered  the  soldiers 
to  allow  no  more  to  pass. 

The  misery  which  now  desolated  the  city 
was  awful.  Famine  bred  pestilence.  Woe  and 
death  were  every  where.  The  Duke  of  Ne- 
mours, younger  brother  of  the  Duke  of  May- 
enne,  hoping  that  Mayenne  might  yet  bring  re- 
lief, still  continued  the  defense.  The  citizens, 
tortured  by  the  unearthly  woes  which  pressed 
them  on  every  side,  began  to  murmur.  Nemours 
erected  scaffolds,  and  ordered  every  murmurer 
to  be  promptly  hung  as  a  partisan  of  Henry. 
Even  this  harsh  remedy  could  not  entirely  si- 
lence fathers  whose  wives  and  children  were 
dying  of  starvation  before  their  eyes. 

The  Duke  of  Mayenne  was  preparing  to  march 
to  the  relief  of  the  city  with  an  army  of  Span- 
iards. Henry  resolved  to  make  an  attempt  to 
take  the  city  by  assault  before  their  arrival. 
The  hour  was  fixed  at  midnight,  on  the  24th 
of  July.  Henry  watched  the  sublime  and  ter- 
rific spectacle  from  an  observatory  reared  on 
the  heights  of  Montmartre.  In  ten  massive  col- 
umns the  Royalists  made  the  fierce  onset.  The 
besieged  were  ready  for  them,  with  artillery  load- 


1590.J  WAR   AND   WOE.  273 

The  suburbs  taken.  The  Duchess  of  Montpensier. 

ed  to  the  muzzle  and  with  lighted  torches.    An 
eye-witness  thus  describes  the  spectacle : 

"The  immense  city  seemed  instantly  to  blaze 
with  conflagrations,  or  rather  by  an  infinity  of 
mines  sprung  in  its  heart.  Thick  whirlwinds 
of  smoke,  pierced  at  intervals  by  flashes  and 
long  lines  of  flame,  covered  the  doomed  city. 
The  blackness  of  darkness  at  one  moment  en- 
veloped  it.  Again  it  blazed  forth  as  if  it  were 
a  sea  of  fire.  The  roar  of  cannon,  the  clash  of 
arms,  and  the  shouts  of  the  combatants  added 
to  the  horrors  of  the  night." 

By  this  attack  all  of  the  suburbs  were  taken, 
and  the  condition  of  the  besieged  rendered  more 
hopeless  and  miserable.  There  is  no  siege  upon 
record  more  replete  with  horrors.  The  flesh 
of  the  dead  was  eaten.  The  dry  bones  of  the 
cemetery  were  ground  up  for  bread.  Starving 
mothers  ate  their  children.  It  is  reported  that 
the  Duchess  of  Montpensier  was  offered  three 
thousand  crowns  for  her  dog.  She  declined  the 
offer,  saying  that  she  should  keep  it  to  eat  her- 
self as  her  last  resource. 

The  compassion  of  Henry  triumphed  again 
and  again  over  his  military  firmness.     He  al- 
lowed the  women  and  children  to  leave  the  city, 
then  the  ecclesiastics,  then  the  starving  poor, 
13—18 


274  KING   HENRY  IV.          [1590. 


Great  clemency  of  Henry. 


then  the  starving  rich.  Each  of  these  acts  of 
generosity  added  to  the  strength  of  his  foes. 
The  famished  Leaguers  were  now  in  a  condi- 
tion to  make  but  a  feeble  resistance.  Henry 
was  urged  to  take  the  city  by  storm.  He  could 
easily  do  this,  but  fearful  slaughter  would  be 
the  inevitable  result.  For  this  reason  Henry 
refused,  saying, 

"  I  am  their  father  and  their  king.  I  can 
not  hear  the  recital  of  their  woes  without  the 
deepest  sympathy.  I  would  gladly  relieve 
them.  I  can  not  prevent  those  who  are  pos- 
sessed with  the  fury  of  the  League  from  per- 
ishing, but  to  those  who  seek  my  clemency  I 
must  open  my  arms." 

Early  in  August,  more  than  thirty  thousand 
within  the  walls  of  the  city  had  perished  by 
famine.  Mayenne  now  marched  to  the  relief 
of  Paris.  Henry,  unwisely,  military  critics  say, 
raised  the  siege  and  advanced  to  meet  him,  hop- 
ing to  compel  him  to  a  decisive  battle.  May- 
enne skillfully  avoided  a  battle,  and  still  more 
skillfully  threw  abundant  supplies  into  the  city. 

And  now  loud  murmurs  began  to  arise  in  the 
camp  of  Henry.  Many  of  the  most  influential 
of  the  Catholics  who  adhered  to  his  cause,  dis- 
heartened by  this  result  and  by  the  indications 


1591.]  WAR  AND   WOE.  275 

Murmurs  in  the  camp.  Desultory  warfare. 

of  an  endless  war,  declared  that  it  was  in  vain 
to  hope  that  any  Protestant  could  be  accepted 
as  King  of  France.  The  soldiers  could  not  con- 
ceal their  discouragement,  and  the  cause  of  the 
king  was  involved  anew  in  gloom. 

Still  Henry  firmly  kept  the  field,  and  a  long 
series  of  conflicts  ensued  between  detachments 
of  the  Royalist  army  and  portions  of  the  Span- 
ish troops  under  the  command  of  the  Duke  of 
Mayenne  and  the  Duke  of  Parma.  The  energy 
of  the  king  was  roused  to  the  utmost.  Victory 
accompanied  his  marches,  and  his  foes  were 
driven  before  him. 

The  winter  of  1591  had  now  arrived,  and  still 
unhappy  France  was  one  wide  and  wasted  bat- 
tle-field. Confusion,  anarchy,  and  misery  every 
where  reigned.  Every  village  had  its  hostile 
partisans.  Catholic  cities  were  besieged  by 
Protestants,  and  Protestant  towns  by  Catholics. 
In  the  midst  of  these  terrible  scenes,  Henry  had 
caught  a  glimpse,  at  the  chateau  of  Coeuvres,  of 
the  beautiful  face  of  Gabrielle  d'Estrees.  Igno- 
bly yielding  to  a  guilty  passion,  he  again  for- 
got the  great  affairs  of  state  and  the  woes  of  his 
distracted  country  in  the  pursuit  of  this  new 
amour.  The  history  of  this  period  contains  but 
a  monotonous  record  of  the  siege  of  innumera- 


276  KING   HENRY  IV.          [1591. 


Awful  condition  of  France. 


ble  towns,  with  all  the  melancholy  accompani- 
ments of  famine  and  blood.  Summer  came  and 
went,  and  hardly  a  sound  of  joy  was  heard  amid 
all  the  hills  and  valleys  of  beautiful  but  war- 
scathed  France. 

There  was  great  division  existing  among  the 
partisans  of  the  League,  there  being  several  can- 
didates for  the  throne.  There  was  but  one 
cause  of  division  in  the  ranks  of  Henry.  That 
he  was  the  legitimate  sovereign  all  admitted. 
It  was  evident  to  all  that,  would  Henry  but  ab- 
jure  Protestantism  and  embrace  the  Catholic 
faith,  nearly  all  opposition  to  him  would  instant- 
ly cease.  Many  papiphlets  were  issued  by  the 
priests  urging  the  iniquity  of  sustaining  a  her- 
etic upon  the  throne.  The  Pope  had  not  only 
anathematized  the  heretical  sovereign,  but  had 
condemned  to  eternal  flames  all  who  should 
maintain  his  cause. 

Henry  had  no  objection  to  Catholicism.  It 
was  the  religion  of  rive  sixths  of  his  subjects. 
He  was  now  anxious  to  give  his  adherence  to 
that  faith,  could  he  contrive  some  way  to  do  it 
with  decency.  He  issued  many  decrees  to  con- 
ciliate the  Romanists.  He  proclaimed  that  he 
had  never  yet  had  time  to  examine  the  subject 
of  religious  faith ;  that  he  was  anxious  for  in- 


1591.]  WAR  AND  WOE.  277 

Attempts  to  conciliate  the  Catholics.  Curious  challenge. 

struction ;  that  he  was  ready  to  submit  to  the 
decision  of  a  council ;  and  that  under  no  cir- 
cumstances would  he  suffer  any  change  in 
France  detrimental  to  the  Catholic  religion.  At 
the  same  time,  with  energy  which  reflects  cred- 
it upon  his  name,  he  declared  the  bull  fulmi- 
nated against  him  by  Gregory  XIV.  as  abusive, 
seditious,  and  damnable,  and  ordered  it  to  be 
burned  by  the  public  hangman. 

By  the  middle  of  November,  1591,  Henry, 
with  an  army  of  thirty-five  thousand  men,  sur- 
rounded the  city  of  Rouen.  Queen  Elizabeth 
had  again  sent  him  aid.  The  Earl  of  Essex 
joined  the  royal  army  with  a  retinue  whose 
splendor  amazed  the  impoverished  nobles  of 
France.  His  own  gorgeous  dress,  and  the  ca-» 
parisons  of  his  steed,  were  estimated  to  be  worth 
sixty  thousand  crowns  of  gold.  The  garrison 
of  Rouen  was  under  the  command  of  Governor 
Villars.  Essex  sent  a  curious  challenge  to  Vil- 
lars,  that  if  he  would  meet  him  on  horseback  or 
on  foot,  in  armor  or  doublet,  he  would  maintain 
against  him  man  to  man,  twenty  to  twenty,  or 
sixty  to  sixty.  To  this  defiance  the  earl  add- 
ed, "I  am  thus  ready  to  prove  that  the  cause 
of  the  king  is  better  than  that  of  the  League, 
that  Essex  is  a  braver  man  than  Villars,  and 


278  KING   HENRY  IV.          [1591. 


A  new  dynasty  contemplated. 


that  my  mistress  is  more  beautiful  than  yours." 
Villars  declined  the  challenge,  declaring,  how- 
ever, that  the  three  assertions  were  false,  but 
that  he  did  not  trouble  himself  much  about  the 
respective  beauty  of  their  mistresses. 

The  weary  siege  continued  many  weeks,  va- 
ried with  fierce  sallies  and  bloody  skirmishes. 
Henry  labored  in  the  trenches  like  a  common 
soldier,  and  shared  every  peril.  He  was  not 
wise  in  so  doing,  for  his  life  was  of  far  too  much 
value  to  France  to  be  thus  needlessly  periled. 

The  influential  Leaguers  in  Paris  now  formed 
the  plan  to  found  a  new  dynasty  in  France  by 
uniting  in  marriage  the  young  Duke  of  Guise — 
son  of  Henry  of  Guise  who  had  been  assassin- 
ated— with  Isabella,  the  daughter  of  Philip  II., 
King  of  Spain.  This  secured  for  their  cause 
all  the  energies  of  the  Spanish  monarchy.  This 
plan  immediately  introduced  serious  discord  be- 
tween Mayenne  and  his  Spanish  allies,  as  May- 
en  ne  hoped  for  the  crown  for  himself.  About 
the  same  time  Pope  Gregory  XIV.  died,  still 
more  depressing  the  prospects  of  Mayenne;  but, 
with  indomitable  vigor  of  intrigue  and  of  battle, 
he  still  continued  to  guide  the  movements  of 
the  League,  and  to  watch  for  opportunities  to 
secure  for  himself  the  crown  of  France. 


1591.]  WAE  AND  WOE.  279 


Trouble  in  the  camp  of  Henry. 


The  politics  of  the  nation  were  now  in  an  in- 
extricable labyrinth  of  confusion.  Henry  IV. 
was  still  sustained  by  the  Protestants,  though 
they  were  ever  complaining  that  he  favored  too 
much  the  Catholics.  He  was  also  sustained 
by  a  portion  of  the  moderate  Catholics.  They 
were,  however,  quite  lukewarm  in  their  zeal,  and 
were  importunately  demanding  that  lie  should 
renounce  the  Protestant  faith  and  avow  himself 
a  Catholic,  or  they  would  entirely  abandon  him. 
The  Swiss  and  Germans  in  his  ranks  were  fill- 
ing the  camp  with  murmurs,  demanding  their 
arrears  of  pay.  The  English  troops  furnished 
him  by  Elizabeth  refused  to  march  from  the 
coast  to  penetrate  the  interior. 

The  League  was  split  into  innumerable  fac- 
tions, some  in  favor  of  Mayenne,  others  sup- 
porting the  young  Cardinal  of  Bourbon,  and  oth- 
ers still  advocating  the  claims  of  the  young 
Duke  of  Guise  and  the  Infanta  of  Spain.  They 
were  all,  however,  united  by  a  common  detesta- 
tion of  Protestantism  and  an  undying  devotion 
to  the  Church  of  Rome. 

In  the  mean  time,  though  the  siege  of  Rouen 
was  pressed  with  great  vigor,  all  efforts  to  take 
the  place  were  unavailing.  Henry  was  repeat- 
edly baffled  and  discomfited,  and  it  became  dai- 


280  KING  HENRY   IV.          [1591. 

Motives  for  abjuring  Protestantism. 

ly  more  evident  that,  as  a  Protestant,  he  nev- 
er could  occupy  a  peaceful  throne  in  Catholic 
France.  Even  many  of  the  Protestant  leaders, 
who  were  politicians  rather  than  theologians, 
urged  Henry  to  become  a  Catholic,  as  the  only 
possible  means  of  putting  an  end  to  this  cruel 
civil  war.  They  urged  that  while  his  adoption 
of  the  Catholic  faith  would  reconcile  the  Cath- 
olics, the  Protestants,  confiding  in  the  freedom 
of  faith  and  worship  which  his  just  judgment 
would  secure  to  them,  would  prefer  him  for  their 
sovereign  to  any  other  whom  they  could  hope 
to  obtain.  Thus  peace  would  be  restored  to 
distracted  France.  Henry  listened  with  a  will- 
ing mind  to  these  suggestions.  To  give  assur- 
ance to  the  Catholics  of  his  sincerity,  he  sent 
ambassadors  to  Rome  to  treat  with  the  Pope  in 
regard  to  his  reconciliation  with  the  Church. 


CONVERSION   OF  THE   KING.      281 


Advice  of  the  Duke  of  Sully. 


CHAPTER  XL 
THE  CONVERSION   OF  THE  KING. 

THIS  bloody  war  of  the  succession  had  now 
desolated  France  for  four  years.  The  Duke 
of  Sully,  one  of  the  most  conspicuous  of  the  po- 
litical Calvinists,  was  at  last  induced  to  give 
his  influence  to  lead  the  king  to  accept  the  Cath- 
olic faith.  Sully  had  been  Henry's  companion 
from  childhood.  Though  not  a  man  of  deep  re- 
ligious convictions,  he  was  one  of  the  most  il- 
lustrious of  men  in  ability,  courage,  and  integ- 
rity. Conversing  with  Henry  upon  the  dis- 
tracted affairs  of  state,  he  said,  one  day, 

"  That  you  should  wait  for  me,  being  a  Prot- 
estant, to  counsel  you  to  go  to  mass,  is  a  thing 
you  should  not  do,  although  I  will  boldly  de- 
clare to  you  that  it  is  the  prompt  and  easy  way 
of  destroying  all  malign  projects.  You  will 
thus  meet  no  more  enemies,  sorrows,  nor  diffi- 
culties in  this  world.  As  to  the  other  world," 
he  continued,  smiling,  "  I  can  not  answer  for 
that." 

The  king  continued  in  great  perplexity.  He 
felt  that  it  was  degrading  to  change  his  religion 


282  KING  HENRY  IV. 

Perplexity  of  Henry.  Theological  argument  of  Sully. 

upon  apparent  compulsion,  or  for  the  accomplish- 
ment of  any  selfish  purpose.  He  knew  that  he 
must  expose  himself  to  the  charge  of  apostasy 
and  of  hypocrisy  in  affirming  a  change  of  belief, 
even  to  accomplish  so  meritorious  a  purpose  as 
to  rescue  a  whole  nation  from  misery.  These 
embarrassments  to  a  vacillating  mind  were  ter- 
rible. 

Early  one  morning,  before  rising,  he  sent  for 
Sully.  The  duke  found  the  king  sitting  up  in 
his  bed,  "  scratching  his  head  in  great  perplexi- 
ty." The  political  considerations  in  favor  of 
the  change  urged  by  the  duke  could  not  satisfy- 
fully  the  mind  of  the  king.  He  had  still  some 
conscientious  scruples,  imbibed  from  the  teach- 
ings of  a  pious  and  sainted  mother.  The  illus- 
trious warrior,  financier,  and  diplomatist  now 
essayed  the  availability  of  theological  consider- 
ations, and  urged  the  following  argument  of  Jes- 
uitical shrewdness : 

"I  hold  it  certain,"  argued  the  duke,  "that 
whatever  be  the  exterior  form  of  the  religion 
which  men  profess,  if  they  live  in  the  observa- 
tion of  the  Decalogue,  believe  in  the  Creed  of  the 
apostles,  love  God  with  all  their  heart,  have 
charity  toward  their  neighbor,  hope  in  the  mer- 
cy of  God,  and  to  obtain  salvation  by  the  death, 


CONVERSION  OF  THE   KING.     283 

Philip  of  Mornay,  Lord  of  Plessis. 

merits,  and  justice  of  Jesus  Christ,  they  can  not 
fail  to  be  saved." 

Henry  caught  eagerly  at  this  plausible  argu- 
ment. The  Catholics  say  that  no  Protestant 
can  be  saved,  but  the  Protestants  admit  that 
a  Catholic  may  be,  if  in  heart  honest,  just,  and 
true.  The  sophistry  of  the  plea  in  behalf  of  an 
insincere  renunciation  of  faith  is  too  palpable  to 
influence  any  mind  but  one  eager  to  be  con- 
vinced. The  king  was  counseled  to  obey  the 
Decalogue,  which  forbids  false  witness,  while 
at  the  same  time  he  was  to  be  guilty  of  an  act 
of  fraud  and  hypocrisy. 

But  Henry  had  another  counselor.  Philip 
of  Mornay,  Lord  of  Plessis,  had  imbibed  from 
his  mother's  lips  a  knowledge  of  the  religion  of 
Jesus  Christ.  His  soul  was  endowed  by  na- 
ture with  the  most  noble  lineaments,  and  he 
was,  if  man  can  judge,  a  devoted  and  exalted 
Christian.  There  was  no  one,  in  those  stormy 
times,  more  illustrious  as  a  warrior,  statesman, 
theologian,  and  orator.  "  We  can  not,"  says  a 
French  writer,  "  indicate  a  species  of  merit  in 
which  he  did  not  excel,  except  that  he  did  not 
advance  his  own  fortune."  When  but  twelve 
years  of  age,  a  priest  exhorted  him  to  beware  of 
the  opinions  of  the  Protestants. 


284  KING   HENRY   IV. 

Inflexible  integrity  of  Mornay. 

"  I  am  resolved,"  Philip  replied,  lirmly,  "  to 
remain  steadfast  in  what  I  have  learned  of  the 
service  of  God.  When  I  doubt  any  point,  I 
will  diligently  examine  the  Gospels  arid  the 
Acts  of  the  Apostles." 

His  uncle,  the  Archbishop  of  Rheims,  advised 
him  to  read  the  fathers  of  the  Church,  and 
promised  him  the  revenues  of  a  rich  abbey  and 
the  prospect  of  still  higher  advancement  if  he 
would  adhere  to  the  Catholic  religion.  Philip 
read  the  fathers  and  declined  the  bribe,  saying, 

"  I  must  trust  to  God  for  what  I  need." 

Almost  by  a  miracle  he  had  escaped  the  Mas- 
sacre of  St.  Bartholomew  and  fled  to  England. 
The  Duke  of  Anjou,  who  had  become  King  of 
Poland,  wishing  to  conciliate  the  Protestants, 
wrote  to  Mornay  in  his  poverty  and  exile,  pro- 
posing to  him  a  place  in  his  ministry.  The 
noble  man  replied, 

"  I  will  never  enter  the  service  of  those  who 
have  shed  the  blood  of  my  brethren." 

He  soon  joined  the  feeble  court  of  the  King 
of  Navarre,  and  adhered  conscientiously,  through 
all  vicissitudes,  to  the  Protestant  cause.  Hen- 
ry IV.  was  abundantly  capable  of  appreciating 
such  a  character,  and  he  revered  and  loved  Mor- 
nay. His  services  were  invaluable  to  Henry, 


CONVERSION   OF  THE   KING.     285 

Mornay's  reply  to  Henry  III. 

for  he  seemed  to  be  equally  skillful  in  nearly  all 
departments  of  knowledge  and  of  business.  He 
could  with  equal  facility  guide  an  army,  con- 
struct a  fortress,  and  write  a  theological  treat- 
ise. Many  of  the  most  important  state  papers 
of  Henry  IV.  he  hurriedly  wrote  upon  the  field 
of  battle  or  beneath  his  wind-shaken  tent.  Hen- 
ry III.,  on  one  occasion,  had  said  to  him, 

"  How  can  a  man  of  your  intelligence  and 
ability  be  a  Protestant  ?  Have  you  never  read 
the  Catholic  doctors  ?" 

"  Not  only  have  I  read  the  Catholic  doctors," 
Mornay  replied,  "  but  I  have  read  them  with 
eagerness ;  for  I  am  flesh  and  blood  like  other 
men,  and  I  was  not  born  without  ambition.  I 
should  have  been  very  glad  to  find  something 
to  flatter  my  conscience  that  I  might  participate 
in  the  favors  and  honors  you  distribute,  and 
from  which  my  religion  excludes  me ;  but,  above 
all,  I  find  something  which  fortifies  my  faith, 
and  the  world  must  yield  to  conscience." 

The  firm  Christian  principles  of  Philip  of 
Mornay  were  now  almost  the  only  barrier  which 
stood  in  the  way  of  the  conversion  of  Henry. 
The  Catholic  lords  offered  Mornay  twenty  thou- 
sand crowns  of  gold  if  he  would  no  more  awak- 
en the  scruples  of  the  king.  Nobly  he  replied, 


286  KING   HENRY   IV. 


Attempt  to  bribe  Mornay.  His  address  to  the  courtiers. 


"  The  conscience  of  my  master  is  not  for  saler 
neither  is  mine." 

Great  efforts  were  then  made  to  alienate  Hen- 
ry from  his  faithful  minister.  Mornay  by  chance 
one  day  entered  the  cabinet  of  the  king,  where 
his  enemies  were  busy  in  their  cabals.  In  the 
boldness  of  an  integrity  which  never  gave  him 
cause  to  blush,  he  thus  addressed  them  in  the 
presence  of  the  sovereign  : 

"  It  is  hard,  gentlemen,  to  prevent  the  king 
my  master  from  speaking  to  his  faithful  servant. 
The  proposals  which  I  offer  the  king  are  such 
that  I  can  pronounce  them  distinctly  before  you 
all.  I  propose  to  him  to  serve  God  with  a  good 
conscience ;  to  keep  Him  in  view  in  every  ac- 
tion; to  quiet  the  schism  which  is  in  his  state 
by  a  holy  reformation  of  the  Church,  and  to  be 
an  example  for  all  Christendom  during  all  time 
to  come.  Are  these  things  to  be  spoken  in  a 
corner  ?  Do  you  wish  me  to  counsel  him  to  go 
to  mass  ?  With  what  conscience  shall  I  advise 
if  I  do  not  first  go  myself?  And  what  is  re- 
ligion, if  it  can  be  laid  aside  like  a  shirt  ?" 

The  Catholic  nobles  felt  the  power  of  this 
moral  courage  and  integrity,  and  one  of  them, 
Marshal  d'Aumont,  yielding  to  a  generous  im- 
pulse, exclaimed, 


CONVERSION  OF  THE  KING.     287 


Indecision  of  Henry.  Process  of  conversion. 


"You  are  better  than  we  are,  Monsieur  Mor- 
nay ;  and  if  I  said,  two  days  ago,  that  it  was 
necessary  to  give  you  a  pistol-shot  in  the  head, 
I  say  to-day  entirely  the  contrary,  and  that  you 
should  have  a  statue." 

Henry,  however,  was  a  politician,  not  a  Chris- 
tian ;  and  nothing  is  more  amazing  than  the 
deaf  ear  which  even  apparently  good  men  can 
turn  to  the  pleadings  of  conscience  when  they 
are  involved  in  the  mazes  of  political  ambition. 
The  process  of  conversion  was,  for  decency's 
sake,  protracted  and  ostentatious.  As  Henry 
probably  had  no  fixed  religious  principles,  he 
could  with  perhaps  as  much  truth  say  that  he 
was  a  Catholic  as  that  he  was  a  Protestant. 

On  the  23d  of  July  the  king  listened  to  a 
public  argument,  five  hours  in  length,  from  the 
Archbishop  of  Bourges,  upon  the  points  of  es- 
sential difference  between  the  two  antagonistic 
creeds.  Henry  found  the  reasoning  of  the  arch- 
bishop most  comfortably  persuasive,  and,  hav- 
ing separated  himself  for  a  time  from  Mornay, 
he  professed  to  be  solemnly  convinced  that  the 
Eoman  Catholic  faith  was  the  true  religion. 
Those  who  knew  Henry  the  best  declare  thai- 
he  was  sincere  in  the  change,  and  his  subse- 
quent life  seems  certainly  to  indicate  that  he 


288  KING   HENRY  IV. 

Testimony  of  Sully.  Gabrielle  d'Estrees. 

was  so.  The  Duke  of  Sully,  who  refused  to 
follow  Henry  into  the  Catholic  Church,  records, 

"As  uprightness  and  sincerity  formed  the 
depth  of  his  heart,  as  they  did  of  his  words,  I 
am  persuaded  that  nothing  would  have  been  ca- 
pable of  making  him  embrace  a  religion  which 
he  internally  despised,  or  of  which  he  even 
doubted." 

In  view  of  this  long  interview  with  the  Arch- 
bishop of  Bourges,  Henry  wrote  to  the  frail  but 
beautiful  Gabrielle  d'Estrees, 

"I  began  this  morning  to  speak  to  the  bish- 
ops. On  Sunday  I  shall  take  the  perilous  leap." 
The  king's  connection  with  Gabrielle  presented 
another  strong  motive  to  influence  his  conver- 
sion. Henry,  when  a  mere  boy,  had  been  con- 
strained by  political  considerations  to  marry 
the  worthless  and  hateful  sister  of  Charles  IX. 
For  the  wife  thus  coldly  received  he  never  felt 
an  emotion  of  affection.  She  was  an  unblush- 
ing profligate.  The  king,  in  one  of  his  cam- 
paigns, met  the  beautiful  maiden  Gabrielle  in 
the  chateau  of  her  father.  They  both  immedi- 
ately loved  each  other,  and  a  relation  prohibited 
by  the  divine  law  soon  existed  between  them. 
Never,  perhaps,  was  there  a  better  excuse  for 
unlawful  love.  But  guilt  ever  brings  woe.  Nei- 


CONVERSION  OF  THE   KING.     289 

Influence  of  Gabrielle.  Abjuration  of  Protestantism. 

ther  party  were  happy.  Gabrielle  felt  condemn- 
ed and  degraded,  and  urged  the  king  to  obtain  a 
divorce  from  the  notoriously  profligate  Margue- 
rite of  Valois,  that  their  union  might  be  sanc- 
tioned by  the  rites  of  religion.  Henry  loved 
Gabrielle  tenderly.  Her  society  was  his  chief- 
est  joy,  and  it  is  said  that  he  ever  remained  faith- 
ful to  her.  He  was  anxious  for  a  divorce  from 
Marguerite,  and  for  marriage  with  Gabrielle. 
But  this  divorce  could  only  be  obtained  through 
the  Pope.  Hence  Gabrielle  exerted  all  her  in- 
fluence to  lead  the  king  into  the  Church,  that 
this  most  desired  end  might  be  attained. 

The  king  now  openly  proclaimed  his  readi- 
ness to  renounce  Protestantism  and  to  accept 
the  Papal  Creed.  The  Catholic  bishops  pre- 
pared an  act  of  abjuration,  rejecting,  very  deci- 
sively, one  after  another,  every  distinguishing 
article  of  the  Protestant  faith.  The  king  glanced 
his  eye  over  it,  and  instinctively  recoiled  from 
an  act  which  he  seemed  to  deem  humiliating. 
He  would  only  consent  to  sign  a  very  brief  dec- 
laration, in  six  lines,  of  his  return  to  the  Church 
of  Rome.  The  paper,  however,  which  he  had 
rejected,  containing  the  emphatic  recantation  of 
every  article  of  the  Protestant  faith,  was  sent  to 
the  Pope  with  the  forged  signature  of  the  king. 
13—19 


290  KING  HENRY  IV.          [1593. 

Public  adoption  of  the  Catholic  faith. 

The  final  act  of  renunciation  was  public,  and 
was  attended  with  much  dramatic  pomp,  in  the 
great  church  of  St.  Denis.  It  was  Sunday,  the 
twenty-fifth  of  July,  1593.  The  immense  ca- 
thedral was  richly  decorated.  Flowers  were 
scattered  upon  the  pavements,  and  garlands  and 
banners  festooned  the  streets  and  the  dwell- 
ings. 

At  eight  o'clock  in  the  morning  Henry  pre- 
sented himself  before  the  massive  portals  of  the 
Oathedral.  He  was  dressed  in  white  satin,  with 
-a  black  mantle  and  chapeau.  The  white  plume, 
which  both  pen  and  pencil  have  rendered  illus- 
trious, waved  from  his  hat.  He  was  surround- 
ed by  a  gorgeous  retinue  of  nobles  and  officers 
of  the  crown.  Several  regiments  of  soldiers,  in 
the  richest  uniform,  preceded  and  followed  him 
as  he  advanced  toward  the  church.  Though  a 
decree  had  been  issued  strictly  prohibiting  the 
populace  from  being  present  at. the  ceremony, 
an  immense  concourse  thronged  the  streets, 
greeting  the  monarch  with  enthusiastic  cries  of 
*'  Vive  le  roi  /" 

The  Archbishop  of  Bourges  was  seated  at 
the  entrance  of  the  church  in  a  chair  draped 
with  white  damask.  The  Cardinal  of  Bourbon, 
and  several  bishops  glittering  in  pontifical  robes, 


CONVERSION   OF  THE  KING.     293 

Ceremony  in  the  Church  of  St.  Denis. 

composed  his  brilliant  retinue.  The  monks  of 
St.  Denis  were  also  in  attendance,  clad  in  their 
sombre  attire,  bearing  the  cross,  the  Gospels, 
and  the  holy  water.  Thus  the  train  of  the  ex- 
alted dignitary  of  the  Church  even  eclipsed  in 
splendor  the  suite  of  the  king. 

As  Henry  approached  the  door  of  the  church, 
the  archbishop,  as  if  to  repel  intrusion,  imperi- 
ously inquired, 

"  Who  are  you  ?" 

"  I  am  the  king,"  Henry  modestly  replied. 

"  What  do  you  desire  ?"  demanded  the  arch- 
bishop. 

"  I  ask,"  answered  the  king,  "  to  be  received 
into  the  bosom  of  the  Catholic,  Apostolic,  and 
Roman  religion." 

"  Do  you  desire  this  sincerely  ?"  rejoined  the 
archbishop. 

"  I  do,"  the  king  replied.  Then  kneeling  at 
the  feet  of  the  prelate,  he  pronounced  the  fol- 
lowing oath : 

"  I  protest  and  swear,  in  the  presence  of  Al- 
mighty God,  to  live  and  die  in  the  Catholic, 
Apostolic,  and  Roman  religion ;  to  protect  and 
defend  it  against  all  its  enemies  at  the  hazard 
of  my  blood  and  life,  renouncing  all  heresies 
contrary  to  it." 


294  KING  HENEY  IV. 

Alleged  sincerity  of  the  king. 

The  king  then  placed  a  copy  of  this  oath  in 
writing  in  the  hands  of  the  archbishop,  and  kiss- 
ed the  consecrated  ring  upon  his  holy  finger. 
Then  entering  the  Cathedral,  he  received  the  ab- 
solution of  his  sins  and  the  benediction  of  the 
Church.  A  Te  Deum  was  then  sung,  high 
mass  was  solemnized,  and  thus  the  imposing 
ceremony  was  terminated. 

It  is  easy  to  treat  this  whole  affair  as  a  farce. 
The  elements  of  ridicule  are  abundant.  But  it 
was  by  no  means  a  farce  in  the  vast  influences 
which  it  evolved.  Catholic  historians  have  al- 
most invariably  assumed  that  the  king  acted  in 
perfect  good  faith,  being  fully  convinced  by  the 
arguments  of  the  Church.  Even  Henry's  Prot- 
estant friend,  the  Duke  of  Sully,  remarks, 

"  I  should  betray  the  cause  of  truth  if  I  suf- 
fered it  even  to  be  suspected  that  policy,  the 
threats  of  the  Catholics,  the  fatigue  of  labor, 
the  desire  of  rest,  and  of  freeing  himself  from 
the  tyranny  of  foreigners,  or  even  the  good  of 
the  people,  had  entirely  influenced  the  king's  res- 
olution. As  far  as  I  am  able  to  judge  of  the 
heart  of  this  prince,  which  I  believe  I  know  bet- 
ter than  any  other  person,  it  was,  indeed,  these 
considerations  which  first  hinted  to  him  the  ne- 
cessity of  his  conversion ;  but,  in  the  end,  he 


CONVERSION   OF  THE   KING.     295 

Other  motives  assigned. 

became  convinced  in  his  own  mind  that  the 
Catholic  religion  was  the  safest." 

Others  have  affirmed  that  it  was  a  shameful 
act  of  apostasy,  in  which  the  king,  stimulated 
by  ambition  and  unlawful  love,  stooped  to  hy- 
pocrisy, and  feigned  a  conversion  which  in  heart 
he  despised.  He  is  represented  as  saying,  with 
levity, 

"  Paris  is  well  worth  a  mass." 

Others  still  assert  that  Henry  was  humanely 
anxious  to  arrest  the  horrors  of  civil  war;  to 
introduce  peace  to  distracted  France,  and  to  se- 
cure the  Protestants  from  oppression.  His  ac- 
ceptance of  the  Catholic  faith  was  the  only  ap- 
parent way  of  accomplishing  these  results.  Be- 
ing a  humane  man,  but  not  a  man  of  establish- 
ed Christian  principle,  he  deemed  it  his  duty  to 
pursue  the  course  which  would  accomplish  such 
results.  The  facts,  so  far  as  known,  are  before 
the  reader,  and  each  one  can  form  his  own  judg- 
ment. 

The  announcement  throughout  the  kingdom 
that  Henry  had  become  a  Catholic  almost  im- 
mediately put  an  end  to  the  civil  war.  Incited 
by  the  royal  example,  many  of  the  leading  Prot- 
estants, nobles  and  gentlemen,  also  renounced 
Protestantism,  and  conformed  to  the  religion  of 


296  KING  HENRY  IV. 

Political  effects  of  Henry's  conversion. 

the  state.  The  chiefs  of  the  League,  many  of 
whom  were  ambitious  political  partisans  rather 
than  zealous  theologians,  and  who  were  clamor- 
ous for  Catholicism  only  as  the  means  of  ob- 
taining power,  at  once  relinquished  all  hope  of 
victory.  For  a  time,  however,  they  still  as- 
sumed a  hostile  attitude,  and  heaped  unmeas- 
ured ridicule  upon  what  they  styled  the  feigned 
conversion  of  the  king.  They  wished  to  com- 
pel the  monarch  to  purchase  their  adhesion  at 
as  dear  a  price  as  possible. 

Many  important  cities  surrendered  to  the  roy- 
al cause  under  the  stipulation  that  the  preach- 
ing of  the  Protestants  should  be  utterly  prohib- 
ited in  their  precincts  and  suburbs.  Even  the 
Pope,  Clement  VIIL,  a  weak  and  bigoted  man, 
for  a  time  refused  to  ratify  the  act  of  the  Arch- 
bishop of  Bourges  in  absolving  Henry  from  the 
pains  and  penalties  of  excommunication.  He 
forbade  the  envoy  of  Henry  to  approach  the 
Vatican.  The  Duke  of  Nevers,  who  was  the 
appointed  envoy,  notwithstanding  this  prohibi- 
tion, persisted  in  his  endeavors  to  obtain  an  au- 
dience ;  but  the  Pope  was  anxious  to  have  the 
crown  of  France  in  the  possession  of  one  whose 
Catholic  zeal  could  not  be  questioned.  He 
would  much  have  preferred  to  see  the  fanatic 


CONVERSION  OF  THE   KING.     297 

Satisfaction  of  the  people.  Ferocity  of  the  Pope. 

Duke  of  Mayenne  upon  the  throne,  or  to  have 
promoted  the  Spanish  succession.  He  therefore 
treated  the  Duke  of  Nevers  with  great  indignity, 
and  finally  gave  him  an  abrupt  dismission. 

But  the  mass  of  the  French  people,  longing 
for  repose,  gladly  accepted  the  conversion  of  the 
king.  One  after  another  the  leaders  of  the 
League  gave  in  their  adhesion  to  the  royal 
cause.  The  Duke  of  Mayenne,  however,  held 
out,  Paris  being  still  in  his  possession,  and  sev- 
eral other  important  cities  and  fortresses  being 
garrisoned  by  his  troops.  The  Pope,  at  length, 
having  vainly  done  every  thing  in  his  power  to 
rouse  France  and  Catholic  Europe  to  resist 
Henry,  condescended  to  negotiate.  His  spirit 
may  be  seen  in  the  atrocious  conditions  which 
he  proposed.  As  the  price  of  his  absolution,  he 
required  that  Henry  should  abrogate  every  edict 
of  toleration,  that  he  should  exclude  Protestants 
from  all  public  offices,  and  that  he  should  ex- 
terminate them  from  the  kingdom  as  soon  as 
possible. 

To  these  demands  Henry  promptly  replied, 
"  I  should  be  justly  accused  of  shamelessness 
and  ingratitude  if,  after  having  received  such 
signal  services  from  the  Protestants,  I  should 
thus  persecute  them." 


298  KING    HENRY  IV.         [1594, 

Coronation  of  the  king.  Paris  secretly  surrendered. 

Henry  was  fully  aware  of  the  influence  of 
forms  upon  the  imaginations  of  the  people.  He 
accordingly  made  preparations  for  his  cojona- 
tion.  The  event  was  celebrated  with  great 
pomp,  in  the  city  of  Chartres,  on  the  27th  of 
February,  1594.  The  Leaguers  were  now  quite 
disheartened.  Every  day  their  ranks  were  di- 
minishing. The  Duke  of  Mayenne,  apprehen- 
sive that  his  own  partisans  might  surrender  Par- 
is to  the  king,  and  that  thus  he  might  be  taken 
prisoner,  on  the  6th  of  March,  with  his  wife  and 
children,  left  the  city,  under  the  pretense  of  be- 
ing called  away  by  important  business. 

Three  hours  after  midnight  of  the  21st  of  the 
month  the  gates  were  secretly  thrown  open,  and 
a  body  of  the  king's  troops  entered  the  metrop- 
olis. They  marched  rapidly  along  the  silent 
streets,  hardly  encountering  the  slightest  oppo- 
sition. Before  the  morning  dawned  they  had 
taken  possession  of  the  bridges,  the  squares,  and 
the  ramparts,  and  their  cannon  were  planted  so 
as  to  sweep  all  the  important  streets  and  ave- 
nues. 

The  citizens,  aroused  by  the  tramp  of  infant- 
ry and  of  cavalry,  and  by  the  rumbling  of  the 
heavy  artillery  over  the  pavements,  rose  from 
their  beds,  and  crowded  the  windows,  and  throng- 


CONVERSION  OF  THE   KING.     299 

The  entry  to  Paris.  Noble  conduct. 

ed  the  streets.  In  the  early  dawn,  the  king,  ac- 
companied by  the  officers  of  his  staff,  entered 
the  capital.  He  was  dressed  in  the  garb  of  a 
civilian,  and  was  entirely  unarmed.  All  were 
ready  to  receive  him.  Shouts  of  "Peace! 
peace!  Long  live  the  king!"  reverberated  in 
tones  of  almost  delirious  joy  through  the  thor- 
oughfares of  the  metropolis.  Henry  thus  ad- 
vanced through  the  ranks  of  the  rejoicing  peo- 
ple to  the  great  cathedral  of  Notre  Dame,  where 
mass  was  performed.  He  then  proceeded  to 
the  royal  palace  of  the  Louvre,  which  his  offi- 
cers had  already  prepared  for  his  reception.  All 
the  bells  of  the  city  rung  their  merriest  chimes, 
bands  of*music  pealed  forth  their  most  exultant 
strains,  and  the  air  was  rent  with  acclamations 
as  the  king,  after  all  these  long  and  bloody  wars, 
thus  peacefully  took  possession  of  the  capital  of 
his  kingdom. 

In  this  hour  of  triumph  Henry  manifested 
the  most  noble  clemency.  He  issued  a  decree 
declaring  that  no  citizen  who  had  been  in  rebel- 
lion against  him  should  be  molested.  Even  the 
Spanish  troops  who  were  in  the  city  to  fight 
against  him  were  permitted  to  depart  with  their 
arms  in  their  hands.  As  they  defiled  through 
the  gate  of  St.  Denis,  the  king  stood  by  a  win- 


300  KING   HENRY  IV. 

Ju.-tice  of  Henry  IV.  Joy  in  Paris. 

dow,  and,  lifting  his  hat,  respectfully  saluted 
the  officers.  They  immediately  approached  the 
magnanimous  monarch,  and,  bending  the  knee, 
thanked  him  feelingly  for  his  great  clemency. 
The  king  courteously  replied, 

"Adieu,  gentlemen,  adieu!  Commend  me 
to  your  master,  and  go  in  peace,  but  do  not 
come  back  again." 

La  Noue,  one  of  Henry's  chief  supporters,  as 
he  was  entering  the  city,  had  his  baggage  at- 
tached for  an  old  debt.  Indignantly  he  hasten- 
ed to  the  king  to  complain  of  the  outrage.  The 
just  monarch  promptly  but  pleasantly  replied, 

"  We  must  pay  our  debts,  La  Noue.  I  pay 
mine."  Then  drawing  his  faithful  servant  aside, 
he  gave  him  his  jewels  to  pledge  for  the  deliv- 
erance of  his  baggage.  The  king  was  so  im- 
poverished that  he  had  not  money  sufficient  to 
pay  the  debt. 

These  principles  of  justice  and  magnanimity, 
which  were  instinctive  with  the  king,  and  which 
were  daily  manifested  in  multiplied  ways,  soon 
won  to  him  nearly  all  hearts.  All  France  had 
writhed  in  anguish  through  years  of  war  and 
misery.  Peace,  the  greatest  of  all  earthly  bless- 
ings, was  now  beginning  to  diffuse  its  joys.  The 
happiness  of  the  Parisians  amounted  almost  to 


1595.]  CONVERSION   OF  THE   KING.  301 

Reconci  iation  with  the  Pope.  Henry  chastised  by  proxy. 

transport.  It  was  difficult  for  the  king  to  pass 
through  the  streets,  the  crowd  so  thronged  him 
with  their  acclamations.  Many  other  import- 
ant towns  soon  surrendered.  But  the  haughty 
Duke  of  Mayenne  refused  to  accept  the  proffer- 
ed clemency,  and,  strengthened  by  the  tremen- 
dous spiritual  power  of  the  head  of  the  Church, 
still  endeavored  to  arouse  the  energies  of  Papal 
fanaticism  in  Flanders  and  in  Spain. 

Soon,  however,  the  Pope  became  convinced 
that  all  further  resistance  would  be  in  vain.  It 
was  but  compromising  his  dignity  to  be  van- 
quished, and  he  accordingly  decided  to  accept 
reconciliation.  In  yielding  to  this,  the  Pope 
stooped  to  the  following  silly  farce,  quite  char- 
acteristic of  those  days  of  darkness  and  delu- 
sion. It  was  deemed  necessary  that  the  king 
should  do  penance  for  his  sins  before  he  could 
be  received  to  the  bosom  of  holy  mother  Church. 
It  was  proper  that  the  severe  mother  should 
chastise  her  wayward  child.  "  Whom  the  Lord 
loveth  he  chasteneth." 

It  was  the  sixteenth  of  September,  1595. 
The  two  embassadors  of  Henry  IV.  kneeled 
upon  the  vestibule  of  one  of  the  churches  in 
Rome  as  unworthy  to  enter.  In  strains  of  af- 
fected penitence,  they  chanted  the  Miserere — 


302  KING  HENRY  IV. 

The  farce.  Cause  of  the  war. 

"Have  mercy,  Lord."  At  the  close  of  every 
verse  they  received,  in  the  name  of  their  mas- 
ter, the  blows  of  a  little  switcli  on  their  shoul- 
ders. The  king,  having  thus  made  expiation 
for  his  sins,  through  the  reception  of  this  chas- 
tisement by  proxy,  and  having  thus  emphatic- 
ally acknowledged  the  authority  of  the  sacred 
mother,  received  the  absolution  of  the  vicar  of 
Christ,  and  was  declared  to  be  worthy  of  the 
loyalty  of  the  faithful. 

We  have  called  this  a  farce.  And  yet  can 
it  be  justly  called  so  ?  The  proud  spirit  of  the 
king  must  indeed  have  been  humiliated  ere  he 
could  have  consented  to  such  a  degradation. 
The  spirit  ennobled  can  bid  defiance  to  any 
amount  of  corporeal  pain.  It  is  ignominy  alone 
which  can  punish  the  soul.  The  Pope  triumph- 
ed ;  the  monarch  was  flogged.  It  is  but  just 
to  remark  that  the  friends  of  Henry  deny  that 
he  was  accessory  to  this  act  of  humiliation. 

The  atrocious  civil  war,  thus  virtually,  for  a 
time,  terminated,  was  caused  by  the  Leaguers, 
who  had  bound  themselves  together  in  a  secret 
society  for  the  persecution  of  the  Protestants. 
Their  demand  was  inexorable  that  the  Protest- 
ants throughout  France  should  be  proscribed  and 
exterminated.  The  Protestants  were  compel- 


CONVERSION  OF  THE  KING.     303 

The  Protestants  still  persecuted.  Scene  of  massacre. 

led  to  unite  in  self-defense.  They  only  asked 
for  liberty  to  worship 'God  according  to  their 
understanding  of  the  teachings  of  the  Bible. 
Henry,  to  conciliate  the  Catholics,  was  now 
compelled  to  yield  to  many  of  their  claims  which 
were  exceedingly  intolerant.  He  did  this  very 
unwillingly,  for  it  was  his  desire  to  do  every 
thing  in  his  power  to  meliorate  the  condition 
of  his  Protestant  friends.  But,  notwithstand- 
ing all  the  kind  wishes  of  the  king,  the  condi- 
tion of  the  Protestants  was  still  very  deplora- 
ble. Public  opinion  was  vehemently  against 
them.  The  magistrates  were  every  where  their 
foes,  and  the  courts  of  justice  were  closed  against 
all  their  appeals.  Petty  persecution  and  tu- 
multuary violence  in  a  thousand  forms  annoyed 
them.  During  the  year  of  Henry's  coronation, 
a  Protestant  congregation  in  Chalaigneraie  was 
assailed  by  a  Catholic  mob  instigated  by  the 
Leaguers,  and  two  hundred  men,  women,  and 
children  were  massacred.  A  little  boy  eight 
years  old,  in  the  simplicity  of  his  heart,  offer- 
ed eight  coppers  which  he  had  in  his  pocket 
to  ransom  his  life ;  but  the  merciless  fanatics 
struck  him  down.  Most  of  these  outrages  were 
committed  with  entire  impunity.  The  king 
had  even  felt  himself  forced  to  take  the  oath, 


304  KING  HENEY  IV. 

Dissatisfaction  of  both  Catholics  and  Protestants. 

"  I  will  endeavor  with  all  my  power,  in  good 
faith,  to  drive  from  my  jurisdiction  and  estates 
all  the  heretics  denounced  by  the  Church." 

The  Protestants,  finding  themselves  thus  de- 
nounced as  enemies,  and  being  cut  off  from  all 
ordinary  privileges  and  from  all  common  jus- 
tice, decided,  for  mutual  protection,  vigorously 
to  maintain  their  political  organization.  The 
king,  though  he  feigned  to  be  displeased,  still 
encouraged  them  to  do  so.  Though  the/  Prot- 
estants were  few  in  numbers,  they  were  power- 
ful in  intelligence,  rank,  and  energy;  and  in 
their  emergencies,  the  strong  arm  of  England 
was  ever  generously  extended  for  their  aid. 
The  king  was  glad  to,  avail  himself  of  their 
strength  to  moderate  the  intolerant  demands  of 
the  Leaguers.  Many  of  the  Protestants  com- 
plained bitterly  that  the  king  had  abandoned 
them.  On  the  other  hand,  the  haughty  leaders 
of  the  League  clamored  loudly  that  the  king 
was  not  a  true  son  of  the  Church,  and,  in  mul- 
tiform conspiracies,  they  sought  his  death  by 
assassination. 

The  Protestants  held  several  large  assemblies 
in  which  they  discussed  their  affairs.  They 
drew  up  an  important  document — an  address  to 
the  king,  entitled,  "  Complaints  of  the  Reform- 


CONVERSION  OF  THE   KING.     305 

Complaints  of  the  Reformed  Churches  of  France. 

ed  Churches  of  France."  Many  pages  were 
filled  with  a  narrative  of  the  intolerable  griev- 
ances they  endured.  This  paper  contained,  in 
conclusion,  the  following  noble  words : 

"  And  yet,  sire,  we  have  among  us  no  Jaco- 
bins or  Jesuits  who  wish  for  your  life,  or 
Leaguers  who  aspire  to  your  crown.  We  have 
never  presented,  instead  of  petitions,  the  points 
of  our  swords.  We  are  rewarded  with  consid- 
erations of  state.  It  is  not  yet  time,  they  say, 
to  grant  us  an  edict.  And  yet,  after  thirty-five 
years  of  persecution,  ten  years  of  banishment 
by  the  edicts  of  the  League,  eight  years  of  the 
king's  reign,  four  years  of  proscription,  we  are 
still  under  the  necessity  of  imploring  from  your 
majesty  an  edict  which  shall  allow  us  to  enjoy 
what  is  common  to  all  your  subjects.  The  sole 
glory  of  God,  the  liberty  of  our  consciences,  the 
repose  of  the  state,  the  security  of  our  property 
and  our  lives — this  is  the  summit  of  our  wishes, 
and  the  end  of  our  requests." 

13—20 


306  KING   HENRY  IV. 

Mayenne  professes  reconciliation.  Terms  exacted  by  the  duke. 


CHAPTER  XII. 
REIGN  AND  DEATH  OF  HENRY  IV. 

THE  reconciliation  of  the  king  with  the  Pope 
presented  a  favorable  opportunity  for  the 
Duke  of  Mayenne,  consistently  with  his  pride, 
to  abandon  the  hopeless  conflict.  He  declared 
that,  as  the  Pope  had  accepted  the  conversion 
of  the  king,  all  his  scruples  were  removed,  and 
that  he  could  now  conscientiously  accept  him  as 
the  sovereign  of  France.  But  the  power  of  the 
haughty  duke  may  be  seen  in  the  terms  he  ex- 
acted. 

The  king  was  compelled  to  declare,  though 
he  knew  to  the  contrary,  that,  all  things  con- 
sidered, it  was  evident  that  neither  the  princes 
nor  the  princesses  of  the  League  were  at  all  im- 
plicated in  the  assassination  of  Henry  III.,  and 
to  stop  all  proceedings  in  Parliament  in  refer- 
ence to  that  atrocious  murder.  Three  fortified 
cities  were  surrendered  to  the  duke,  to  be  held 
by  him  and  his  partisans  for  six  years,  in  pledge 
for  the  faithful  observance  of  the  terms  of  the 
capitulation.  The  king  also  assumed  all  the 


REIGN   OF   HENRY   IV.          307 

Interview  between  Henry  and  the  duke. 

debts  which  Mayenne  had  contracted  during  the 
war,  and  granted  a  term  of  six  weeks  to  all  the 
Leaguers  who  were  still  in  arms  to  give  in  their 
adhesion  and  to  accept  his  clemency. 

The  king  was  at  this  time  at  Monceaux. 
The  Duke  of  Mayenne  hastened  to  meet  him. 
He  found  Henry  riding  on  horseback  in  the 
beautiful  park  of  that  place  with  the  fair  Ga- 
brielle,  and  accompanied  by  the  Duke  of  Sully. 
Mayenne,  in  compliance  with  the  obsequious- 
etiquette  of  those  days,  kneeled  humbly  before 
the  king,  embraced  his  knees,  and,  assuring  him 
of  his  entire  devotion  for  the  future,  thanked 
the  monarch  for  having  delivered  him  "from 
the  arrogance  of  the  Spaniards  and  from  the 
cunning  of  the  Italians." 

Henry,  who  had  a  vein  of  waggery  about  him, 
immediately  raised  the  duke,  embraced  him  with 
the  utmost  cordiality,  and,  taking  his  arm,  with- 
out any  allusion  whatever  to  their  past  difficul- 
ties, led  him  through  the  park,  pointing  out  to 
him,  with  great  volubility  and  cheerfulness,  the 
improvements  he  was  contemplating. 

Henry  was  a  well-built,  vigorous  man,  and 
walked  with  great  rapidity.  Mayenne  was  ex- 
cessively corpulent,  and  lame  with  the  gout. 
With  the  utmost  difficulty  he  kept  up  with  the 


308  KING  HENRY   IV. 

Henry'S  revenge.  Hostility  of  Spain  and  Flanders. 

king,  panting,  limping,  and  his  face  blazing  with 
the  heat.  Henry,  with  sly  malice,  for  some  time 
appeared  not  to  notice  the  sufferings  of  his  vic- 
tim ;  then,  with  a  concealed  smile,  he  whispered 
to  Sully, 

"  If  I  walk  this  great  fat  body  much  long- 
er, I  shall  avenge  myself  without  any  further 
trouble."  Then  turning  to  Mayenne,  he  added, 
*'  Tell  me  the  truth,  cousin,  do  I  not  walk  a  lit- 
tle too  fast  for  you  ?" 

"Sire,"  exclaimed  the  puffing  duke,  "I  am 
almost  dead  with  fatigue." 

"  There's  my  hand,"  exclaimed  the  kind- 
hearted  king,  again  cordially  embracing  the 
duke.  "  Take  it,  for,  on  my  life,  this  is  all  the 
vengeance  I  shall  ever  seek." 

There  were  still  parts  of  the  kingdom  which 
held  out  against  Henry,  and  Spain  and  Flan- 
ders freely  supplied  men  and  ammunition  to 
the  fragments  of  the  League.  Calais  was  in 
the  hands  of  the  enemy.  Queen  Elizabeth  of 
England  had  ceased  to  take  much  interest  in 
the  conflict  since  the  king  had  gone  over  to  the 
Catholics.  When  Calais  was  besieged  by  the 
foe,  before  its  surrender  she  offered  to  send  her 
fleet  for  its  protection  if  Henry  would  give  the 
city  to  her.  Henry  tartly  replied,  "  I  had  rath- 


REIGN  OF  HENRY  IV.          311 

Calais  taken  by  the  Leaguers. 

er  be  plundered  by  my  enemies  than  by  my 
friends." 

The  queen  was  offended,  sent  no  succor,  and 
Calais  passed  into  the  hands  of  the  Leaguers. 
The  king  was  exceedingly  distressed  at  the  loss 
of  this  important  town.  It  indicated  new  and 
rising  energy  on  the  part  of  his  foes.  The  more 
fanatical  Catholics  all  over  the  kingdom,  who 
had  never  been  more  than  half  reconciled  to 
Henry,  were  encouraged  to  think  that,  after  all 
their  defeats,  resistance  might  still  be  success- 
ful. The  heroic  energies  of  the  king  were,  how- 
ever, not  depressed  by  this  great  disaster.  When 
its  surrender  was  announced,  turning  to  the 
gentlemen  of  his  court,  he  calmly  said, 

"  My  friends,  there  is  no  remedy.  Calais  is 
taken,  but  we  must  not  lose  our  courage.  It 
is  iti  the  midst  of  disasters  that  bold  men  grow 
bolder.  Our  enemies  have  had  their  turn. 
With  God's  blessing,  who  has  never  abandoned 
me  when  I  have  prayed  to  him  with  my  whole 
heart,  we  shall  yet  have  ours.  At  any  event,  I 
am  greatly  comforted  by  the  conviction  that  I 
have  omitted  nothing  that  was  possible  to  save 
the  city.  All  of  its  defenders  have  acquitted 
themselves  loyally  and  nobly.  Let  us  not  re- 
proach them.  On  the  contrary,  let  us  do  hon- 


312  KING   HENRY  IV. 


Movement  of  the  nobles. 


or  to  their  generous  defense.  And  now  let  us 
rouse  our  energies  to  retake  the  city,  that  it 
may  remain  in  the  hands  of  the  Spaniards  not 
so  many  days  as  our  ancestors  left  it  years  in 
the  hands  of  the  English." 

A  large  body  of  the  nobles  now  combined  to 
extort  from  the  king  some  of  the  despotic  feu- 
dal privileges  which  existed  in  the  twelfth  cen- 
tury. They  thought  that  in  this  hour  of  re- 
verse Henry  would  be  glad  to  purchase  their 
powerful  support  by  surrendering  many  of  the 
prerogatives  of  the  crown.  After  holding  a 
meeting,  they  appointed  the  Duke  of  Montpen- 
sier,  who  was  very  young  and  self-sufficient,  to 
present  their  demands  to  the  king.  Their  plan 
was  this,  that  the  king  should  consent  to  the 
division  of  France  into  several  large  depart- 
ments, over  each  of  which,  as  a  vassal  prince, 
some  distinguished  nobleman  should  reign,  col- 
lecting his  own  revenues  and  maintaining  his 
own  army.  Each  of  these  vassal  nobles  was 
to  be  bound,  when  required,  to  furnish  a  milita- 
ry contingent  to  their  liege  lord  the  king. 

Montpensier  entered  the  presence  of  the  mon- 
arch, and  in  a  long  discourse  urged  the  insult- 
ing proposal.  The  king  listened  calmly,  and 
without  interrupting  him,  to  the  end.  Then,  in 


1796.J     EEIGN   OF  HENRY  IV.          313 

Energetic  reply  of  the  king.  Dark  days. 

tones  unimpassioned,  but  firm  and  deliberate, 
he  replied, 

"  My  cousin,  you  must  be  insane.  Such 
language  coming  from  you,  and  addressed  to 
me,  leads  me  to  think  that  I  am  in  a  dream. 
Views  so  full  of  insult  to  the  sovereign,  and 
ruin  to  the  state,  can  not  have  originated  in 
your  benevolent  and  upright  mind.  Think  you 
that  the  people,  having  stripped  me  of  the  au- 
gust prerogatives  of  royalty,  would  respect  in 
you  the  rights  of  a  prince  of  the  blood  ?  Did 
I  believe  that  you,  in  heart,  desired  to  see  me 
thus  humiliated,  I  would  teach  you  that  such 
an  offense  is  not  to  be  committed  with  impuni- 
ty. My  cousin,  abandon  these  follies.  Reveal 
not  your  accomplices,  but  reply  to  them  that 
you  yourself  have  such  a  horror  of  these  propo- 
sitions that  you  will  hold  him  as  a  deadly  ene- 
my who  shall  ever  speak  to  you  of  them  again." 

This  firmness  crushed  the  conspiracy ;  but 
still  darkness  and  gloom  seemed  to  rest  upon 
unhappy  France.  The  year  1796  was  one  of 
famine  and  of  pestilence.  "  We  had,"  says  a 
writer  of  the  times,  "  summer  in  April,  autumn 
in  May,  and  winter  in  June."  In  the  city  and 
in  the  country,  thousands  perished  of  starva- 
tion. Famishing  multitudes  crowded  to  the 


314  KING   HENRY   IV.          [1796. 

Singular  accident  Deplorable  state  of  France. 

gates  of  the  city  in  search  of  food,  but  in  the 
city  the  plague  had  broken  forth.  The  author- 
ities drove  the  mendicants  back  into  the  coun- 
try. They  carried  with  them  the  awful  pesti- 
lence in  every  direction.  At  the  same  time,  sev- 
eral attempts  were  made  to  assassinate  the  king. 
Though  he  escaped  the  knife  of  the  assassin,  he 
came  near  losing  his  life  by  a  singular  accident. 

The  Princess  of  Navarre,  sister  of  the  king, 
had  accompanied  him,  with  the  rest  of  the  court, 
into  Picardy.  She  was  taken  suddenly  ill.  The 
king  called  to  see  her,  carrying  in  his  arms  his 
infant  son,  the  idolized  child  of  the  fair  Gabri- 
elle.  While  standing  by  the  bedside  of  his  sis- 
ter, from  some  unexplained  cause,  the  flooring 
gave  way  beneath  them.  Henry  instinctively 
sprang  upon  the  bed  with  his  child.  Providen- 
tially, that  portion  of  the  floor  remained  firm, 
while  all  the  rest  was  precipitated  with  a  crash 
into  the  rooms  below.  Neither  Henry,  his  sis- 
ter, or  his  child  sustained  any  injury. 

The  financial  condition  of  the  empire  was  in 
a  state  of  utter  ruin — a  ruin  so  hopeless  that  the 
almost  inconceivable  story  is  told  that  the  king 
actually  suffered  both  for  food  and  raiment.  He 
at  times  made  himself  merry  with  his  own  rag- 
ged appearance.  At  one  time  he  said  gayly. 


y796.J     REIGN  OF  HENRY  IV.          315 

Poverty  of  the  king.  Depression  of  the  king. 

when  the  Parliament  sent  the  president,  Se- 
guier,  to  remonstrate  against  a  fiscal  edict, 

"  I  only  ask  to  be  treated  as  they  treat  the 
monks,  with  food  and  clothing.  Now,  Mr.  Pres- 
ident, I  often  have  not  enough  to  eat.  As  for 
my  habiliments,  look  and  see  how  I  am  accou- 
tred," and  he  pointed  to  his  faded  and  thread- 
bare doublet. 

Le  Grain,  a  contemporary,  writes,  "  I  have 
seen  the  king  with  a  plain  doublet  of  white  stuff, 
ail  soiled  by  his  cuirass  and  torn  at  the  sleeve, 
and  with  well-worn  breeches,  unsewn  on  the 
side  of  the  sword-belt." 

While  the  king  was  thus  destitute,  the  mem- 
bers of  the  council  of  finance  were  practicing 
gross  extortion,  and  living  in  extravagance. 
The  king  was  naturally  light-hearted  and  gay, 
but  the  deplorable  condition  of  the  kingdom  oc- 
casionally plunged  him  into  the  deepest  of  mel- 
ancholy. A  lady  of  the  court  one  day  remark- 
ed to  him  that  he  looked  sad. 

"  Indeed,"  he  replied,  "  how  can  I  be  other- 
wise, to  see  a  people  so  ungrateful  toward  their 
king?  Though  I  have  done  and  still  do  all  I 
can  for  them,  and  though  for  their  welfare  I 
would  willingly  sacrifice  a  thousand  lives  had 
God  given  me  so  many,  as  I  have  often  proved, 
et  they  daily  attempt  my  life." 


316  KING   HENRY  IV.          [1596. 

The  Duke  of  Sully.  Siege  of  Amiens. 

The  council  insisted  that  it  was  not  safe  for 
the  king  to  leave  so  many  of  the  Leaguers  in 
the  city,  and  urged  their  banishment.  The 
king  refused,  saying, 

"  They  are  all  my  subjects,  and  I  wish  to  love 
them  equally." 

The  king  now  resolved,  notwithstanding 
strong  opposition  from  the  Catholics,  to  place 
his  illustrious  Protestant  friend,  Sully,  at  the 
head  of  the  ministry  of  finance.  Sully  entered 
upon  his  Herculean  task  with  shrewdness  which 
no  cunning  could  baffle,  and  with  integrity 
which  no  threat  or  bribe  could  bias.  All  the 
energies  of  calumny,  malice,  and  violence  were 
exhausted  upon  him,  but  this  majestic  man 
moved  straight  on,  heedless  of  the  storm,  till  he 
caused  order  to  emerge  from  apparently  inex- 
tricable confusion,  and,  by  just  and  healthy 
measures,  replenished  the  bankrupt  treasury  of 
the  state. 

The  king  was  now  pushing  the  siege  of  Ami- 
ens, which  had  for  some  time  been  in  the  hands 
of  his  enemies.  During  this  time  he  wrote  to 
his  devoted  friend  and  faithful  minister  of 
finance, 

"I  am  very  near  the  enemy,  yet  I  have  scarce- 
ly a  horse  upon  which  I  can  fight,  or  a  suit  of 


1597-8.]   REIGN  OP  HENRY  IV.        317 

Its  capitulation.  The  Edict  of  Nantes. 

armor  to  put  on.  My  doublet  is  in  holes  at  the 
elbows.  My  kettle  is  often  empty.  For  these 
two  last  days  I  have  dined  with  one  and  an- 
other as  I  could.  My  purveyors  inform  me  that 
they  have  no  longer  the  means  of  supplying  my 
table." 

On  the  twenty-fifth  of  June,  1597,  Amiens 
capitulated. 

One  of  the  kings  of  England  is  said  to  have 
remarked  to  his  son,  who  was  eager  to  ascend 
the  throne,  "  Thou  little  knowest,  my  child, 
what  a  heap  of  cares  and  sorrows  thou  graspest 
at."  History  does,  indeed,  prove  that  "uneasy 
lies  the  head  that  wears  a  crown."  New  per-' 
plexities  now  burst  upon  the  king.  The  Prot- 
estants, many  of  them  irritated  by  his  conver- 
sion, and  by  the  tardy  and  insufficient  conces- 
sions they  received,  violently  demanded  entire 
equality  with  the  Catholics.  This  demand  led 
to  the  famous  Edict  of  Nantes.  This  ordi- 
nance, which  receives  its  name  from  the  place 
where  it  was  published,  was  issued  in  the  month 
of  April,  1598.  It  granted  to  the  Protestants 
full  private  liberty  of  conscience.  It  also  per- 
mitted them  to  enjoy  public  worship  in  all 
places  where  the  fight  was  already  established. 
Protestant  lords  of  the  highest  rank  could  cele- 


318  KING   HENRY  IV.          [1598. 

Provisions  of  the  edict.  Clamors  of  the  Catholics. 

brate  divine  service  in  their  castles  with  any 
number  of  their  retainers.  Nobles  of  the  second 
rank  might  maintain  private  worship  in  their 
mansions,  to  which  thirty  persons  could  be  ad- 
mitted. Protestants  were  pronounced  to  be  eli- 
gible to  public  office.  Their  children  were  to 
be  admitted  to  the  schools,  their  sick  to  the 
hospitals,  and  their  poor  to  a  share  of  the  pub- 
lic charities.  In  a  few  specified  places  they 
were  permitted  to  print  books.  Such,  in  the 
main,  was  the  celebrated  "  Edict  of  Nantes.'' 

The  Catholics  considered  this  an  enormous 
and  atrocious  concession  to  deadly  heresy.  New 
clamors  blazed  forth  against  Henry,  as  in  heart 
false  to  the  Church.  The  Catholic  clergy,  in 
one  combined  voice,  protested  against  it,  and 
Pope  Clement  VIII.  declared  the  Edict  of 
Nantes,  which  permitted  liberty  of  conscience 
to  every  one,  tJie  most  execrable  that  was  ever 
made. 

It  has  required  centuries  of  blood  and  woe 
to  teach  even  a  few  individuals  the  true  princi- 
ples of  religious  liberty.  Even  in  Protestant 
lands,  the  masses  of  the  people  have  not  yet 
fully  learned  that  lesson.  All  over  Catholic 
Europe,  and  all  through  the  realms  of  pagan- 
ism, intolerance  still  sways  her  cruel  and  bloody 


1598.]     REIGN  OF  HENEY  IV.          319 

Toleration  slowly  learned.  Dissatisfaction  of  both  parties. 

sceptre.  These  miserable  religious  wars  in 
France,  the  birth  of  ignorance,  fanaticism,  and 
depravity,  for  seventy  years  polluted  the  state 
with  gory  scaffolds  and  blazing  stakes.  Three 
thousand  millions  of  dollars  were  expended  in 
the  senseless  strife,  and  two  millions  of  lives 
were  thrown  away.  At  the  close  of  the  war, 
one  half  of  the  towns  and  the  majestic  castles 
of  beautiful  France  were  but  heaps  of  smould- 
ering ruins.  All  industry  was  paralyzed.  The 
fields  were  abandoned  to  weeds  and  barrenness. 
The  heart  and  the  mind  of  the  whole  nation 
was  thoroughly  demoralized.  Poverty,  emacia- 
tion, and  a  semi-barbarism  deformed  the  whole 
kingdom. 

Neither  the  Catholics  nor  Protestants  were 
satisfied  with  the  Edict  of  Nantes.  The  Par- 
liament of  Paris,  composed  almost  entirely  of 
Catholics,  for  a  long  time  refused  its  ratifica- 
tion. Henry  called  the  courts  before  him,  and 
insisted  with  kindness,  but  with  firmness,  that 
the  edict  should  be  verified. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  he,  in  the  long  speech 
which  he  made  upon  the  occasion,  "  there  must 
be  no  more  distinction  between  Catholics  and 
Protestants.  All  must  be  good  Frenchmen. 
Let  the  Catholics  convert  the  Protestants  by 


320  KING   HENRY   IV.          [1598. 

Progress  of  affaire.  Prosperity  in  the  kingdom. 

the  example  of  a  good  life.  I  am  a  shepherd- 
king,  who  will  not  shed  the  blood  of  his  sheep, 
but  who  will  seek  to  bring  them  all  with  kind- 
ness into  the  same  fold.'' 

The  Catholic  Parliament,  thus  constrained, 
finally  adopted  the  edict.  The  Protestants  also, 
perceiving  clearly  that  this  was  the  best  that 
the  king  could  do  for  them,  after  long  discus- 
sion in  their  Consistory,  which  was,  in  reality, 
their  Parliament  finally  gave  in  their  adhesion. 
The  adjoining  hostile  powers,  having  no  longer 
a  party  in  France  to  join  them,  were  thus  dis- 
armed. They  sent  embassadors  to  promote 
peace.  Friendly  treaties  were  speedily  formed, 
and  Henry  was  the  undisputed  monarch  of  a 
kingdom  in  repose. 

Henry  now  commenced,  with  great  energy, 
the  promotion  of  the  prosperity  of  his  exhaust- 
ed kingdom.  To  check  the  warlike  spirit  which 
had  so  long  been  dominant,  he  forbade  any  of 
his  subjects,  except  his  guards,  to  carry  arms. 
The  army  was  immediately  greatly  reduced,  and 
public  expenditures  so  diminished  as  material- 
ly to  lighten  the  weight  of  taxation.  Many  ot 
the  nobles  claimed  exemption  from  the  tax,  but 
Henry  was  inflexible  that  the  public  burden 
should  be  borne  equally  by  all.  The  people, 


1598.]     REIGN   OF   HENRY   IV.          321 

Henry's  illness.  Devotion  of  his  subjects. 

enjoying  the  long  unknown  blessings  of  peace, 
became  enthusiastically  grateful  to  their  illus- 
trious benefactor. 

In  the  month  of  October,  1598,  the  king  was. 
'taken  dangerously  ill.  The  whole  nation  was 
in  a  panic.  The  touching  demonstrations  which 
Henry  then  received  of  the  universal  love  and 
homage  of  his  subjects  affected  him  .deeply. 
But  few  men  find  enough  happiness  in  tins- 
world  to  lead  them  to  cling  very  tenaciously  to- 
life  when  apparently  on  a  dying  bed.  Henry 
at  this  time  said  to  his  attendants, 

"  I  have  no  fear  of  death.  I  do  not  shrink 
at  all  from  the  great  journey  to  the  spirit  land- 
But  I  greatly  regret  being  removed  from  my 
beloved  country  before  I  have  restored  it  to- 
complete  prosperity." 

Happily,  the  fever  was  subdued,  and  he  again, 
with  indefatigable  diligence,  resumed  his  labors. 
To  discourage  the  extravagance  of  the  nobles, 
he  set  the  example  of  extreme  economy  in  all 
his  personal  expenses.  He  indulged  in  no  gaudy 
equipage,  his  table  was  very  frugally  served,  and 
his  dress  was  simple  in  the  extreme.  No  man 
in  the  kingdom  devoted  more  hours  to  labor. 
He  met  his  council  daily,  and  in  all  their  confer- 
ences exhibited  a  degree  of  information,  shrewd- 

13—21 


322  KING   HENRY   IV. 

Hostility  of  the  nobles.  The  Marchioness  of  Verneuil. 

ness,  and  of  comprehensive  statesmanship  which 
astonished  the  most  experienced  politicians  who 
surrounded  him. 

It  was  a  fierce  battle  which  the  king  and  his 
minister  were  compelled  to  fight  for  many  years 
.against  the  haughty  nobles,  who  had  ever  re- 
garded the  mass  of  the  people  but  as  beasts  of 
burden,  made  to  contribute  to  their  pleasure. 
The  demands  of  these  proud  aristocrats  were 
incessant  and  inexorable.  It  is  a  singular  fact 
that,  among  them  all,  there  was  not  a  more  thor- 
ough-going aristocrat  than  Sully  himself.  He 
had  a  perfect  contempt  for  the  people  as  to  any 
power  of  self-government.  They  were,  in  his 
view,  but  sheep,  to  be  carefully  protected  by  a 
kind  shepherd.  It  was  as  absurd,  he  thought, 
to  consult  them,  as  it  would  be  for  a  shepherd 
to  ask  the  advice  of  his  flock.  But  Sully  wish- 
ed to  take  good  care  of  the  people,  to  shield  them 
from  all  unequal  burdens,  from  all  aristocratic 
usurpations,  and  to  protect  them  with  inflexible 
justice  in  person  and  in  property.  His  gov- 
ernment was  absolute  in  the  extreme. 

The  Marchioness  of  Verneuil,  in  a  towering 
rage,  bitterly  reproached  the  duke  for  prevent- 
ing her  from  receiving  a  monopoly  from  the 
king,  which  would  have  secured  to  her  an  in- 


REIGN   OF   HENRY   IV.          323 

Integrity  of  Sully.  The  slave  of  love. 

come  of  some  five  hundred  thousand  dollars  a 
year. 

"  Truly  the  king  will  be  a  great  fool,"  ex- 
claimed the  enraged  marchioness,  "if  he  contin- 
ues to  follow  your  advice,  and  thus  alienates  so 
many  distinguished  families.  On  whom,  pray, 
should  the  king  confer  favors,  if  not  on  his  rel- 
atives and  his  influential  friends  ?" 

"  What  you  say,"  replied  the  unbending  min- 
ister, "  would  be  reasonable  enough  if  his  maj- 
esty took  the  money  all  out  of  his  own  purse. 
But  to  assess  a  new  tax  upon  the  merchants, 
artisans,  laborers,  and  country  people  will  nev- 
er do.  It  is  by  them  that  the  king  and  all  of 
us  are  supported,  and  it  is  enougli  that  they 
provide  for  a  master,  without  having  to  main- 
tain his  cousins  and  friends." 

For  twelve  years  Henry,  with  his  illustrious 
minister,  labored  with  unintermitted  zeal  for 
the  good  of  France.  His  love  of  France  was 
an  ever-glowing  and  growing  passion  for  which 
every  thing  was  to  be  surrendered.  Henry  was 
great  in  all  respects  but  one.  He  was  a  slave 
to  the  passion  of  love.  "  And  no  one,"  says 
Napoleon,  "  can  surrender  himself  to  the  pas- 
sion of  love  without  forfeiting  some  palms  of 
glory."  This  great  frailty  has  left  a  stain  upon 


324  KING   HENRY  IV. 

The  king's  greatness. 

his  reputation  which  truth  must  not  conceal, 
which  the  genius  of  history  with  sorrow  re- 
gards, and  which  can  never  be  effaced.  He  was 
a  great  statesman.  His  heart  was  warm  and 
generous.  His  philanthropy  was  noble  and  all- 
embracing,  and  his  devotion  to  the  best  wel- 
fare of  France  was  sincere  and  intense.  Wit- 
ness the  following  memorable  prayer  as  he  was 
just  entering  upon  a  great  battle : 

"  O  Lord,  if  thou  meanest  this  day  to  punish 
me  for  my  sins,  I  bow  my  head  to  the  stroke 
of  thy  justice.  Spare  not  the  guilty.  But,  Lord, 
by  thy  holy  mercy,  have  pity  on  this  poor  realm, 
and  strike  not  the  flock  for  the  fault  of  the  shep- 
herd." 

*'  If  God,"  said  he  at  another  time,  "  shall 
grant  me  the  ordinary  term  of  human  life,  I 
hope  to  see  France  in  such  a  condition  that  ev- 
«ry  peasant  shall  be  able  to  have  a  fowl  in  the 
pot  on  Sunday." 

This  memorable  saying  shows  both  the  be- 
nevolence of  the  king  and  the  exceeding  pover- 
ty, at  that  time,  of  the  peasantry  of  France. 
Suily,  in  speaking  of  the  corruption  which  had 
prevailed  and  of  the  measures  of  reform  intro- 
duced, says, 

"  The  revenue  annually  paid  into  the  royal 


REIGN   OF   HENRY  iV.          325 

Financial  skill  of  Sully.  Co-operation  of  Henry. 

treasury  was  thirty  millions.  It  could  not  be, 
I  thought,  that  such  a  sum  could  reduce  the 
kingdom  of  France  so  low.  I  resolved  to  en- 
ter upon  the  immense  investigation.  To  my 
horror,  I  found  that  for  these  thirty  millions 
given  to  his  majesty  there  were  extorted  from 
the  purses  of  his  subjects,  I  almost  blush  to  say, 
one  hundred  and  fifty  millions.  After  this  I 
was  no  longer  ignorant  whence  the  misery  of 
the  people  proceeded.  I  applied  my  cares  to 
the  authors  of  this  oppression,  who  were  the 
governors  and  other  officers  of  the  army,  who 
all,  even  to  the  meanest,  abused,  in  an  enormous 
manner,  their  authority  over  the  people.  I  im- 
mediately caused  a  decree  to  be  issued,  by  which 
they  were  prohibited,  under  great  penalties,  to- 
exact  any  thing  from  the  people,  under  any  ti- 
tle whatever,  without  a  warrant  in  form." 

The  king  co-operated  cordially  with  his  min- 
ister in  these  rigorous  acts  of  reform,  and  shield- 
ed him  with  all  the  power  of  the  monarchy  from 
the  storm  of  obloquy  which  these  measures  drew 
down  upon  him.  The  proud  Duke  of  Epernon, 
exasperated  beyond  control,  grossly  insulted 
Sully*  Henry  immediately  wrote  to  his  min- 
ister, "  If  Epernon  challenges  you,  I  will  be 
your  second." 


326  KING  HENRY  IV. 

Solicitations  of  Gabrielle.  Her  death. 

The  amiable,  but  sinning  and  consequently 
wretched  Gabrielle  was  now  importunate  for 
the  divorce,  that  she  might  be  lawfully  married 
to  the  king.  But  the  children  already  born 
could  not  be  legitimated,  and  Sully  so  clearly 
unfolded  to  the  king  the  confusion  which  would 
thus  be  introduced,  and  the  certainty  that,  in 
consequence  of  it,  a  disputed  succession  would 
deluge  France  in  blood,  that  the  king,  ardently 
as  he  loved  Gabrielle,  was  compelled  to  aban- 
don the  plan.  Gabrielle  was  inconsolable,  and 
inveighed  bitterly  against  Sully.  The  king 
for  a  moment  forgot  himself,  and  cruelly  retort- 
ed, 

"Know,  woman,  that  a  minister  like  Sully 
must  be  dearer  to  me  than  even  such  a  friend 
as.  you." 

This  harshness  broke  the  heart  of  the  unhap- 
py Gabrielle.  She  immediately  left  Fontaine- 
bleau,  where  she  was  at  that  time  with  the  king, 
and  retired  to  Paris,  saying,  as  she  bade  Hen- 
ry adieu,  "We  shall  never  meet  again."  Her 
words  proved  true.  On  reaching  Paris  she  was 
seized  with  convulsions,  gave  birth  to  a  lifeless 
child,  and  died.  Poor  Gabrielle!  Let  com- 
passion drop  a  tear  over  her  grave !  She  was 
by  nature  one  of  the  most  lovely  and  noble  of 


REIGN   OF   HENEY  IV.          327 

Grief  of  the  king.  The  divorce. 

women.  She  lived  in  a  day  of  darkness  and 
of  almost  universal  corruption.  Yielding  to  the 
temptation  of  a  heroic  monarch's  love,  she  fell, 
and  a  subsequent  life  of  sorrow  was  terminated 
by  an  awful  death,  probably  caused  by  poison. 

Henry,  as  soon  as  informed  of  her  sickness, 
mounted  his  horse  to  gallop  to  Paris.  He  had 
proceeded  but  half  way  when  he  was  met  by  a 
courier  who  informed  him  that  Gabrielle  was 
dead.  The  dreadful  blow  staggered  the  king, 
and  he  would  have  fallen  from  his  horse  had  he 
not  been  supported  by  his  attendants.  He  re- 
tired to  Fontainebleau,  shut  himself  up  from  all 
society,  and  surrendered  himself  to  the  most 
bitter  grief.  Sully  in  vain  endeavored  to  con- 
sole him.  It  was  long  before  he  could  turn  his 
mind  to  any  business.  But  there  is  no  pain 
whose  anguish  time  will  not  diminish.  New 
cares  and  new  loves  at  length  engrossed  the 
heart  where  Gabrielle  had  for  a  few  brief  years 
so  supremely  reigned. 

The  utterly  profligate  Marguerite,  now  that 
Gabrielle  was  dead,  whom  she  of  course  hated, 
was  perfectly  willing  to  assent  to  a  divorce. 
While  arrangements  were  making  to  accomplish 
this  end,  the  king  chanced  to  meet  a  fascinat- 
ing, yet  pert  and  heartless  coquette,  Henriette 


328  KING   HENRY, IV. 

Henriette  d'Entragues.  Bold  fidelity  of  Sully. 

d'Entragues,  daughter  of  Francis  Balzac,  Lord 
of  Entragues.  Though  exceedingly  beautiful, 
she  was  a  calculating,  soulless  girl,  who  was 
glad  of  a  chance  to  sell  herself  for  rank  and 
money.  She  thus  readily  bartered  her  beauty 
to  the  king,  exacting,  with  the  most  cool  finan- 
ciering, as  the  price,  a  written  promise  that  he 
would  marry  her  as  soon  as  he  should  obtain  a 
divorce  from  Marguerite  of  Valois,  upon  condi- 
tion that  she,  within  the  year,  should  bear  him 
.a  son. 

The  king,  having  written  the  promise,  placed 
it  in  the  hands  of  Sully.  The  bold  minister 
read  it,  then  tore  it  into  fragments.  The  king, 
amazed  at  such  boldness,  exclaimed  in  a  pas- 
sion, "  Sir,  I  believe  that  you  are  mad." 

"True,  sire,  I  am,"  replied  Sully;  "but 
would  to  God  that  I  were  the  only  madman  in 
France." 

But  Henry,  notwithstanding  his  anger,  could 
not  part  from  a  minister  whose  services  were  so 
invaluable.  He  immediately  drew  up  another 
promise,  which  he  placed  in  the  hands  of  the 
despicable  beauty.  This  rash  and  guilty  pledge 
was  subsequently  the  cause  of  great  trouble  to 
the  king. 

Henry  having  obtained  a  divorce,  the  nation 


1600.]     REIGN   OF  HENRY   IV.          329 

Marriage  to  Maria  of  Medici.  Anecdote. 

demanded  that  he  should  form  a  connection 
which  should  produce  a  suitable  heir  to  inherit 
the  throne.  Thus  urged,  and  as  Henrietta  did 
not  give  birth  to  the  wished-for  son,  Henry  re- 
luctantly married,  in  the  year  1600,  Maria  ot 
Medici,  niece  of  the  Grand  Duke  of  Tuscany. 

Maria  was  a  domineering,  crafty,  ambitious 
woman,  who  embittered  the  life  of  the  king. 
She  was  very  jealous,  and  with  reason  enough, 
of  the  continued  influence  of  Henrietta ;  and  the 
palace  was  the  scene  of  disgraceful  domestic 
broils.  Henry,  in  one  of  his  letters  to  Sully, 
describes  the  queen  as  "  terribly  robust  and 
healthy.  But  when  she  gave  birth  to  a  son 
who  was  undeniably  heir  to  the  throne,  thus  al- 
laying the  fears  of  a  disputed  succession,  the 
whole  nation  rejoiced,  and  Henry  became  some- 
what reconciled  to  his  unattractive  spouse.  The 
king  was  exceedingly  fond  of  this  child.  One 
day  the  Spanish  embassador,  a  dignified  Cas- 
tilian,  was  rather  suddenly  ushered  into  the 
royal  presence  at  Fontainebleau.  The  monarch 
was  on  all  fours  on  the  floor,  running  about  the 
room  with  the  little  dauphin  on  his  back.  Rais- 
ing his  eyes,  he  said  to  the  embassador, 

"Are  you  a  father?" 

"  Yes,  sire,"  was  the  reply. 


330  KING   HENRY  IV. 

Grand  political  scheme. 

"Then  I  may  finish  my  play,"  said  Henry, 
and  he  took  another  trot  around  the  room. 

Henrietta  and  her  relatives  were  greatly  ex- 
asperated that  the  king  did  not  fulfill  his  prom- 
ise of  marriage.  The  father  and  daughter,  join- 
ed by  the  Count  d'Auvergne,  plotted  against 
the  king's  life.  They  were  arrested  and  con- 
demned to  death.  The  king,  however,  trans- 
muted their  punishment  to  exile. 

One  of  the  grandest  schemes  of  Henry  de- 
serves particular  mention.  Reflecting  deeply 
upon  the  wars  with  which  Europe  had  ever  been 
desolated,  and  seeing  the  occasion  for  this  in 
the  innumerable  states  and  nations  into  which 
Europe  was  divided,  of  various  degrees  of  pow- 
er, and  each  struggling  for  its  own  selfish  inter- 
est, he  proposed  to  unite  all  the  states  of  Eu- 
rope in  one  vast  Christian  Republic.  The  whole 
continent  was  to  be  divided  into  fifteen  states, 
as  uniform  in  size  and  power  as  possible.  These 
states  were  to  be,  according  to  their  choice,  mo- 
narchical or  republican.  They  were  to  be  asso- 
ciated on  a  plan  somewhat  resembling  that  of 
the  United  States  of  America. 

Nothing  can  more  conclusively  show  the  en- 
tire absence  of  correct  notions  of  religious  toler- 
ation prevailing  at  that  day  than  the  plan  pro- 


1610.]     EEIGN  OF  HENEY  IV.          331 

Mode  of  preventing  religious  quarrels. 

posed  to  prevent  religious  quarrels.  Wherever 
-any  one  form  of  faith  predominated,  that  was  to 
be  maintained  as  the  national  faith.  In  Cath- 
olic states,  there  were  to  be  no  Protestants ;  in 
Protestant  states,  no  Catholics.  The  minority, 
liowever,  were  not  to  be  exterminated ;  they 
were  only  to  be  compelled  to  emigrate  to  the 
•countries  where  their  own  form  of  faith  prevail- 
ed. All  pagans  and  Mohammedans  were  to  be 
driven  out  of  Europe  into  Asia.  To  enforce 
this  change,  an  army  of  two  hundred  and  sev- 
enty thousand  infantry,  fifty  thousand  cavalry, 
two  hundred  cannon,  and  one  hundred  and  twen- 
ty ships  of  war,  was  deemed  amply  sufficient. 

The  first  step  was  to  secure  the  co-operation 
•of  two  or  three  of  the  most  powerful  kings  of 
Europe.  This  would  render  success  almost  cer- 
tain. Sully  examined  the  plan  with  the  utmost 
care  in  all  its  details.  Henry  wished  first  to 
secure  the  approval  of  England,  Sweden,  and 
Denmark. 

But,  in  the  midst  of  these  schemes  of  grand- 
eur, Henry  was  struck  down  by  the  hand  of 
an  assassin.  On  the  fourteenth  of  May,  1610, 
the  king  left  the  Louvre  at  four  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon  to  visit  Sully,  who  was  sick.  Prep- 
arations were  making  for  the  public  entry  of 


332  KING   HENRY  IV.          [1610. 


Assassination  of  the  king. 


the  queen,  who,  after  a  long  delay,  had  just  been 
crowned.  The  city  was  thronged  ;  the  day  was 
fine,  and  the  curtains  of  the  coach  were  drawn 
up.  Several  nobles  were  in  the  spacious  car- 
riage with  the  king.  As  the  coach  was  turn- 
ing out  of  the  street  Honore  into  the  narrow 
street  Ferronnerie,  it  was  stopped  by  two  carts^ 
which  blocked  up  the  way.  Just  at  that  in- 
stant a  man  from  the  crowd  sprang  upon  a 
spoke  of  the  wheel,  and  struck  a  dagger  into  the 
king  just  above  the  heart.  Instantly  repeating 
the  blow,  the  heart  was  pierced.  Blood  gush- 
ed from  the  wound  and  from  the  mouth  of  the 
king,  and,  without  uttering  a  word,  he  sank  dead 
in  the  arms  of  his  friends. 

The  wretched  assassin,  a  fanatic  monk,  was 
immediately  siezed  by  the  guard.  With  diffi- 
culty they  protected  him  from  being  torn  to 
pieces  by  the  infuriated  people.  His  name  waa 
Francis  Ravaillac.  According  to  the  savage 
custom  of  the  times,  he  was  subsequently  put 
to  death  with  the  most  frightful  tortures. 

The  lifeless  body  of  the  king  was  immedi- 
ately taken  to  the  Tuileries  and  placed  upon  a 
bed.  Surgeons  and  physicians  hurried  to  the 
room  only  to  gaze  upon  his  corpse.  No  lan- 
guage can  depict  the  grief  arid  despair  of  France 


1610.]     KEIGN  OF   HENRY   IV.          333 

Character  of  Henry  IV.  The  truth  to  be  enforced. 

#t  his  death.  He  had  won  the  love  of  the  whole 
nation,  and,  to  the  present  day,  no  one  hears 
the  name  of  Henry  the  Fourth  mentioned  in 
France  but  with  affection.  He  was  truly  the 
father  of  his  people.  All  conditions,  employ- 
ments, and  professions  were  embraced  in  his 
comprehensive  regard.  He  spared  no  toil  to 
make  France  a  happy  land.  He  was  a  man  of 
genius  and  of  instinctive  magnanimity.  In  con- 
versation he  had  no  rival.  His  profound  and 
witty  sayings  which  have  been  transmitted  to 
us  are  sufficient  to  form  a  volume.  His  one 
great  and  almost  only  fault  sadly  tarnishes  his 
otherwise  fair  and  honorable  fame. 

In  Henry  commenced  the  reign  of  the  house 
of  Bourbon.  For  nearly  two  hundred  years  the 
family  retained  the  crown.  It  is  now  expelled, 
and  the  members  are  wandering  in  exile  through 
foreign  lands. 

There  is  one  great  truth  which  this  narrative 
enforces  :  it  is  the  doctrine  of  freedom  of  con- 
science. It  was  the  denial  of  this  simple  truth 
which  deluged  France  in  blood  and  woe.  The 
recognition  of  this  one  sentiment  would  have 
saved  for  France  hundreds  of  thousands  of  lives, 
and  millions  of  treasure.  Let  us  take  warn- 
ing. We  need  it. 


334  KING  HENRY  IV. 

Free  speech.  Free  press.  Free  men_ 

Let  us  emblazon  upon  our  banner  the  noble 
words,  "Toleration — perfect  civil  and  relig- 
ious toleration. "  But  Toleration  is  not  a  slave. 
It  is  a  spirit  of  light  and  of  liberty.  It  has 
much  to  give,  but  it  has  just  as  much  to  de- 
mand. It  bears  the  olive-branch  in  one  hand, 
and  the  gleaming  sword  in  the  other.  I  grant 
to  you,  it  says,  perfect  liberty  of  opinion  and  of 
expression,  and  I  demand  of  you  the  same. 

Let  us  then  inscribe  upon  the  arch  which 
spans  our  glorious  Union,  making  us  one  in  its 
celestial  embrace,  "freedom  of  speech,  freedom 
of  the  press,  and  free  men." 

Then  shall  that  arch  beam  upon  us  like  God's 
bow  of  promise  in  the  cloud,  proclaiming  that 
this  land  shall  never  be  deluged  by  the  surges 
of  civil  war — that  it  never  shall  be  inundated  by 
flames  and  blood. 

The  human  mind  is  now  so  roused  that  it 
will  have  this  liberty  ;  and  if  there  are  any  in- 
stitutions of  religion  or  of  civil  law  which  can 
not  stand  this  scrutiny,  they  are  doomed  to  die. 
The  human  mind  will  move  with  untrammeled 
sweep  through  the  whole  range  of  religious  doc- 
trine,  and  around  the  whole  circumference  and 
into  the  very  centre  of  all  political  assumptions. 

If  the  Catholic  bishop  have  a  word  to  say,  let 


REIGN  OF  HENEY  IV.          335 

Practical  application  of  the  moral. 

him  say  it.  If  some  one,  rising  in  the  spirit 
and  power  of  Martin  Luther,  has  a  reply  to 
make,  let  him  make  it.  Those  who  wish  to 
listen  to  the  one  or  the  other,  let  them  do  so. 
Those  who  wish  to  close  their  ears,  let  them 
have  their  way. 

Our  country  is  one.  Our  liberty  is  nation- 
al. Let  us  then  grant  toleration  every  where 
throughout  our  wide  domain,  in  Maine  and  in 
Georgia,  amid  the  forests  of  the  Aroostook  and 
upon  the  plains  of  Kansas. 


THE    END. 


000  879  536 


